


Another Satisfied Customer

by PCrabapple



Category: HLVRAI-Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self-Aware
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Blow Jobs, Broken Bones, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Consensual Violence, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eating Glass (Benrey does it so it's fine), Fantasizing, Forced Orgasm, French Kissing, Frottage, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Tooth Violence, Nausea, Needles, Non-Consensual Groping, Not A Game AU, Orgasm Delay, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Secrets, Sexual Fantasy, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Benrey Death, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Crush, Vomiting, cigarette burn, consensual injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25150519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PCrabapple/pseuds/PCrabapple
Summary: The HEV suit creates a BIG problem and now Gordon is suffering. Only one thing can fix it. He asks Benrey to help him get it.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 191
Kudos: 1073





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you're a minor, don't fucking read this! Heed the tags, this deals with some sensitive subject matter.

“Hey uh. Hey Benrey.” Gordon broached during a lull in their trek, while Coomer, Bubby and Tommy were engaging in some of their patented inane chatter. It looked like they might be settling in for what passed for a night’s rest in this industrial hell. But Gordon didn’t think he’d be able to get to sleep without some help.

“Yo. Wassup?” Benrey replied, looking a bit wary. It wasn’t often Gordon approached him with a tone that wasn’t tinged with rage. Especially lately. Gordon had been particularly testy this last stretch of crawling through Black Mesa’s labyrinth. He needed relief, and was getting desperate.

“I need a favor,” Gordon licked his lips, shifting his gaze away, back to Benrey, away again, unable to make sustained eye contact. If he could just get through this part, get Benrey to agree, he’d be fine. 

Benrey pursed his lips, looking even more dubious. “You want uhhh, my PSN handle?” he started as Gordon steered him, blessedly compliant, into a small office down the hallway. “I don’t just give that out to any idiot who’s wandering around the facility. Without, credentials y’know. Inner circle only.”

“No! I’m not talking about PlayStation Net-” Gordon checked himself, taking a breath. Just stay calm. “I need you to do something to me.” Benrey’s reaction made it clear that he could have worded it better, true though it was.

“Huh?” Benrey faltered. And not his typical aggravating bullshit where Gordon was sure Benrey had heard him correctly and was choosing not to understand. He seemed to be having actual trouble processing it. “Yyyyou want me to give you a haircut? Huh? Chop off that nasty ass ponytail? ” This was going to be rough.

Gordon tilted his head to stare into the fluorescent lights, wishing he could ask anyone but Benrey. But he knew none of the others would be willing to indulge him in something like this. “No. Even easier. I need you to hurt me.”

Benrey blinked. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “Uhhhh.” Gordon could almost smile with satisfaction at the realization that he could, indeed, surprise the other man. But he didn’t, remaining deadly serious. 

“Look, you clearly hate me, so why don’t you do something about it, Benrey?” He challenged, trying a different tack. ”I’m giving you a free pass here. So just. Just cut me or...break my finger or...I dunno, you got a cigarette?” He pulled the collar of the HEV suit down and pressed a finger into his collarbone, mimicking a cigarette being put out on his skin.

“What?” Benrey was wide-eyed now. He looked away, and Gordon thought he could see a flush rising to his pallid cheeks. “This some kinda perv thing?”

“No! I just need…” Gordon gestured vaguely, “I need it.” 

Benrey turned to look at him again, studying what Gordon knew must have been his truly pitiful, needy expression. He shook his head in confusion and shrugged. “I got some cigarettes.”

“Okay. I think that’ll work.” Gordon nodded eagerly, licking his lips again. He watched, anticipation growing as Benrey fumbled with the pockets of his vest. He seemed nervous, but Gordon couldn’t give too much of a shit about that right now. He was getting what he craved, and it was shaping up to be easier than he’d expected. 

Benrey finally pulled a loose cigarette out of one of the pouches and a lighter out of another. He held them out for Gordon to take. Gordon’s eyes darted away again. “Uh...no I...can’t do it myself. I tried. Too much of a pussy I guess.” He gave a thin, sweaty laugh.

“Man, the fuck is this?” Benrey muttered as he put the cigarette in his own mouth and lit it. “Don’t usually smoke,” he rambled around the cigarette, “One of the uh… One of the guards gave ‘em to me.” 

“Okay,” Gordon said, not really paying attention. He was hyper-focused on the end of the cigarette glowing to a blazing red-orange as Benrey inhaled. He stepped closer and Benrey’s eyes flicked up to his. “Really hot.”

“Whu-” The elegant trail of smoke curling from Benrey’s mouth transformed into a chaotic cloud as he sputtered and coughed, his face undeniably red now. He stared at Gordon with an expression Gordon didn’t care to try to place.

“It’s gotta be really hot, before you put it out on me,” Gordon said, impatience growing. “So, like, do it right after you inhale."

Benrey’s gaze skittered away again. “Right. Yeah. Duh. ‘M not stupid.”

Gordon nodded, and pulled his collar down again. Benrey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and leaned forward, putting the cigarette back in his mouth. “You ready?”

“Yes! Just hurry the fuck u-!” Gordon gasped as the end of the cigarette was suddenly pressed into his skin, burning through the upper layers with startling efficiency. “Aah!” Gordon cried out as the pain spread lightning quick, literally setting his nerves on fire. He fell to his knees and put a hand over the hole in his skin. Tears sprang to his eyes as he grit his teeth. 

“Second. Degree. Burn. Detected.” The HEV suit’s voice informed him in its halting robotic lilt. Gordon waited, idly noting that the cigarette had been dropped to the ground next to him at some point. The pain settled in, making it clear it was there to stay.

After a moment Benrey knelt down in front of him.

“So uh...was it good for you?” Benrey asked. His deadpan tone lacked it’s usual effortless scorn. Gordon stared down, watching the other man’s hand seem to debate with itself before settling on the floor a few inches from Gordon’s knee. 

“It didn’t work,” Gordon rasped. He pounded his fist against the floor In frustration. Benrey’s hand retreated back. “It didn’t fucking…” He felt like he could cry if he wasn’t already.

“...Bummer.” Benrey replied. Gordon was certain he was going to say something else. About being a crybaby or a loser or any myriad other inscrutable insults. But he didn’t say anything.

Gordon shut his eyes, hating this so much. He’d only made things worse, and for nothing. He took a few more ragged breaths as the wound began to throb insistently. “It’s gotta be more,” he decided.

“What?” Benrey said. His hand withdrew a few more inches.

“You gotta do more,” Gordon nodded to Benrey, to himself. He splayed his gloved right hand on the laminate tile and pushed it towards Benrey. “Here, break my pinky finger.”

“Uh...Man. I don’t…” Benrey moved to stand up. Gordon grabbed his wrist. Benrey froze.

“Benrey, please!” he whined, looking up at him. “You gotta help me. I’m begging you.” Distantly, he hated how pathetic he sounded. Presently, all that mattered was getting what he ached for. And this was the only way he knew he could get it.

Benrey was staring. A sharp canine tooth digging into his lower lip. Gordon vaguely wondered if he’d ever seen him do that before. But Benrey nodded and that was that. 

“Fff. Fucked up shit, Freeman,” Benrey mumbled. “Don’t move.” He took hold of Gordon’s wrist in turn and set his palm back on the floor, lingering a bit before moving away. He scooted over, kneeling next to Gordon now. 

Gordon let Benrey do whatever. Dazed and sweating with pain and want, he was only able to whisper “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” hoping against hope this would give him relief. 

Benrey set the toe of one black-booted foot over Gordon's knuckles, pinning him to the floor. He wrapped his hand around Gordon’s little finger. Gordon could feel him taking a few deep breaths beside him. 

He didn’t get a warning this time. Benrey yanked up and back. Gordon heard the bone crack before he felt it. But it was a damn short lag time..

“Augh! Ssshit!” Gordon hissed as fresh new pain blossomed, distracting from the cigarette burn in the worst way possible. Heaving a sobbing breath, he shut his eyes tight again and waited, shivering in apprehensive misery. He felt Benrey’s hand on his shoulder.

“Fracture. Detected.” the HEV suit supplied. It felt like minutes until it spoke again a few seconds later. “Morphine. Administered.” 

Gordon let out the breath he was holding. Tension flooded out of his muscles before he actually felt the painkiller. He laughed, the relief was overwhelming. Not to mention the high quickly wiping out his pain, anxiety, and the withdrawal he’d been suffering through.

“Oh…” he heard Benrey through a fuzzy filter. “Ohhhhh.” 

“You’re...goddamn...lifesaver.” Gordon mumbled, gently slipping from his kneeling position to curl up on the floor.

“Yeah…” Benrey was standing up. Gordon watched with rapidly detaching interest as his boot ground the remnants of the cigarette into the floor. His concern with anything was soon all but evaporated. Including Benrey’s words as he left the room. “I don’t hate you. Fucking idiot…”


	2. Chapter 2

Gordon was suffering again. He was doing a lot of that these days. It hadn’t occurred to him until he’d woken up in an empty room with a cigarette burn and a broken finger he’d begged for, but he was well and truly fucked. 

The medstations fixed his wounds, but not as well as time and proper medical treatment would have. He bore a circular scar on his collarbone, and his pinky finger was crooked and stiff, wouldn’t curl in all the way when he clenched his fist. Still, if not for the high tech first aid kits, he would be in much worse shape as he tried to manage his growing dependence. 

The HEV suit and its charging stations were not to be cheated. They kept their stores of morphine locked up tight. The only way to get the morphine from the station was with the suit. And the only way to get the morphine from the suit was to play by the rules. 

The suit wouldn’t give him two doses within 30 minutes. If he’d had three doses in 12 hours, the suit made him wait an additional 12 hours before giving another one. And of course, the HEV suit had to deem whatever injury he’d sustained to be grievous enough to necessitate a dose.

Pre-Resonance Cascade, Gordon would have agreed with all these precautions. Perfectly reasonable methods to prevent abuse and cover the company’s ass. 

But now, miserable and sweating, he hated the hard-coded restrictions with a passion. He wanted to peel the armor plating apart, figure out where the painkiller was kept so he could be the arbiter of his own dosage. If he had the proper time, lighting, and tools, he could probably figure it out.

But all he had was a crowbar, the faulty fluorescents of an imploding Black Mesa, and whatever scant hours they found between mad dashes to and from various goals and threats.

So he had to play by the rules.

The process of figuring out exactly what caused enough damage to give him morphine was arduous and painful. He’d been keeping a mental chart in his head. Burns, while excruciating, were apparently not serious enough. Not as much as broken bones and deep cuts. Long falls were almost a guarantee, but if he landed the wrong way, he wouldn’t be able to make it to a medstation, or he’d be dead before he even got the shot.

Sometimes he thought he wouldn’t mind. Sometimes when he felt so bad, when one of The Science Team carelessly pointed a gun in his face, he wished they’d just pull the trigger. Traveling through Black Mesa during a full scale alien and domestic military invasion, looking for something to harm him enough to get high, was a dangerous and exhausting game to be playing.

And so he found himself once again considering asking Benrey to hurt him. As awkward and strange as the encounter had been, it was effective. He’d been able to get high in a controlled environment, out of the heat of battle, and he’d been able to get some real rest. It seemed the infuriating guard might be the most reliable method to get what he needed.

Still, he waited as long as he could stand to. Until he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. Until not even the spectacle of two consecutive rocket launches held much interest. All he cared about was getting a dose.

“Benrey. Benrey I uh. I need your help again,” he said, pulling Benrey into a rather spacious supply closet after convincing the rest of the team to go to sleep. 

Benrey eyed him and sneered. “What freaky shit you into today bro? Piss play? Foot stuff? Gonna have to go back a couple hours ‘f you want tentacles.”

“N- What? No! I just need. Y’know... The same thing as yesterday.” 

Benrey shifted, crossing his arms and glancing away. “Fuckin. Boring,” he grumbled, “Boring ass Freeman and his shitty kinks.”

“It’s not a sex thing!” Gordon hissed. He pulled out the combat knife he’d picked off one of the military grunts earlier. 

“Whoa, chill out man. Just a lil’ joke. Don’t gotta threaten me.” Benrey held up his hands in mock-surrender. 

Gordon thought about punching Benrey. But whereas that might provoke someone else to fight back, give him the critical damage he required, he had a feeling Benrey wouldn’t rise to the challenge. He took a deep breath. It didn’t help. Only one thing seemed to be able to calm him down lately.

He turned the knife over, offering the handle to Benrey. “C’mon man. Just cut me a little. Well, I mean...more than a little. It won’t take long.” The cigarette burn hadn’t worked, and Gordon suspected a cut would heal better than broken bones. 

Benrey looked down at the knife, shifting on his feet. “Nah. I got better things to do. Can’t hang around cutting up nerds all day.” The refusal was devastating. What had changed since yesterday?

Gordon let out a frustrated growl. He set the knife on a shelf of cleaning supplies and grabbed the straps of Benrey’s vest, pushing him against the wall.

“What do you want, Benrey? What do I have to do to get some fucking help from you?” Gordon pleaded. 

“Hhhh…” Gordon didn’t think he’d pushed Benrey hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but he was certainly acting like it. After a few moments of staring down at the hands on his shoulders, he finally spoke. “You got uhhhh...ffff free month of PlaySta- PS Plus?” he halted out.

Not for the first time, Gordon wished he could just do it himself. Break his own bones, cut his own skin. But his self preservation instinct was well intact. Whenever he’d tried he felt an overwhelming sense of nausea that overrode the craving. He was at the mercy of the suit for the morphine, and at the mercy of Benrey for the trigger.

“I can’t DO that right now Benrey!” Gordon whined. What the fuck COULD he do? He had limited resources, and who the fuck knew what would sway someone like Benrey?

He looked down at the other man, trying to study him, suss out his needs. Benrey’s breath was rapid and shallow, gaze darting over Gordon’s face, down at his hands, off to the side, over and over. 

A stroke of desperate genius hit and Gordon sank to his knees. Of course. Benrey was always saying weird horny shit. Surely he could appreciate the satisfaction of some baser needs. He started undoing Benrey’s belt.

“Dude, whu-what?” Benrey sounded somewhat panicked. “You don’t gotta...do...th- uhh, fuck, man…” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Gordon insisted. It was, actually, a very big deal to him. Getting Benrey to give him that hit was the most important thing right now. “I help you feel good, you help me feel good. Simple. It’s nothing, okay?” Gordon paused, waiting for Benrey to accept the exchange.

Benrey’s mouth hung open slightly as he looked down at Gordon. His hands hovered above Gordon’s shoulders, fingers twitching. But at the word “nothing,” his expression hardened. “Ffffine. You’re fuckin.’ Gaggin’ for it so hard. Be rude of me to ref-. Say no.” 

Gordon nodded and continued. He couldn’t think too hard about this. It was a means to an end. He was doing what he had to do to get what he needed. 

“Could you...your vest is. In the way,” he said once he realized Benrey’s armor was going to cause a problem.

“Can’t do anything without help,” Benrey started, undoing the buckles that held his vest together. He seemed to be having trouble. Or maybe he was just stalling, still ambivalent about the whole thing. “I’m just. Fuckin’ chilling and you come in here. Demanding to suck my dick. An’ I still gotta do everything.”

“Shut up.” Gordon was getting impatient. The longer this took, the longer he had to wait. So he tried to help, unlatching the buckles on the other side of Benrey’s waist with his own slightly shaking fingers. 

After a minute of awkward, quiet fumbling, Benrey’s vest was deposited onto the floor, and Gordon got back to it. With how hesitant Benrey was being, he thought he’d have to work to get him hard, but he found the other man’s boxers straining when he pulled his pants down. He must be really pent up. 

Gordon didn’t waste any time teasing. He moved Benrey’s waistband and worked up the saliva in his mouth before opening and taking in as much as he could. That was a mistake. He immediately gagged and pulled back, taking a breath. He wanted this over as soon as possible so he could satisfy his craving, but some things couldn’t be rushed.

He tried to simultaneously focus on the task at hand while also giving it as little thought as possible, resulting in a clinically detached approach as he wrapped his hand around the base of Benrey’s cock and went back in. 

He was forced to consider the size and shape as he calculated his plan of attack. It was big enough that keeping his teeth out of the equation was a challenge. He took it in by degrees, alternating breaths with another few centimeters shoved deeper into his mouth. All the while he kept his tongue moving, noting a curiously sweet flavor to the pulsing flesh as he slathered over it.

He felt tentative fingers slide against his scalp, almost questioning in their delicacy. Gordon didn’t object, not that he was in a position to. He kept his brain on getting Benrey off, on getting his morphine. 

Once he’d gotten as used to having Benrey shoved down his airway as he could with limited patience, Gordon experimented with moving. He bobbed his head, moving his hand in tandem, spreading his saliva along whatever he couldn’t get into his throat.

“God...y. You suhh. Bad at this,” Benrey hissed. Gordon glanced up for the first time. He’d expected Benrey to be looking elsewhere, or have his eyes closed so he could imagine whatever he would prefer in the moment. But Gordon was surprised to find the man staring right back down at him with an intensity that unnerved him. He’d taken his helmet off at some point, the hand that wasn’t in Gordon’s hair was twisted in his own black locks, fingers tangled with the sweaty hair. A gesture Gordon recognized as the man trying to ground himself.

Gordon might have been bad at sucking dick but something he was doing must have been working. He couldn’t maintain that devastating eye contact. He redirected his eyeline to where his lips were wrapped around Benrey’s erection. The other man’s hips spasmed, clearly wanting to thrust forward but holding himself back. Gordon placed his other hand on Benrey’s ass and pulled towards himself, encouraging him. If it would do the job, he was game.

“Ah...fffuck,” Benrey pressed forward, and Gordon tried not to puke as he took him in further than before. Instead he pushed himself down, opening his throat and strategically timing his breath. Reflexive tears filled his eyes as he fucked his mouth on Benrey’s cock. 

The hand that had been carding through his hair was on the back of his head now, holding him down every few strokes, forcing Gordon to swallow around the tip. Each time he did, Benrey gasped in a way Gordon would have thought sounded quite nice. If he wasn’t doggedly refusing to attach any quality judgements to any of this.

In fact once he thought of the whole thing from a more apathetic perspective, it all became a lot easier. He was letting Benrey use his mouth to get off. Gordon relaxed and it all went a little more smoothly. He steadfastly ignored the feeling of Benrey’s thumb slipping under the frame of his glasses, wiping away the moisture gathering on one of his cheekbones. He closed his eyes tighter.

Benrey’s breath grew increasingly ragged, driving Gordon to suction his mouth tighter, press his tongue harder, move his head faster.

“Guh. Gordon I’m…” Benrey said urgently, and started to pull Gordon away from him. But Gordon made a noise of protest and pressed back, until his nose touched Benrey’s stomach, pubic hair brushing against his nostrils.

“Shit. Ahh. Hhhhh.” Benrey moaned as he came down Gordon’s throat. Gordon gagged, his throat constricting and further milking Benrey of his jizz. The hand in his hair tightened painfully even as the fingers on his jaw caressed him with something resembling tenderness.

Gordon finally withdrew, gasping for air and wondering at the taste coating his mouth. It was definitely unusual. Sweet with a distinct but unplaceable Blue flavor. Briefly he thought again about Benrey’s claim of not being human. He didn’t dwell on it too long though. He had a bargain to fulfil.

Benrey slid down the wall, boneless and dazed. “You uh….you good man?” he asked, voice soft and careful as he readjusted his underwear. Gordon wondered how anyone could possibly think he was good in this moment, eyes and nose leaking, hair fucked up, throat fucked up, body and brain desperate for its medicine. 

“Not yet,” Gordon said, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice. He reached up to the shelf, knocking over a bottle of something or other as he felt for the knife. He grabbed it and pressed the handle into Benrey’s hand.

Benrey’s expression fell as he looked down at it. “We had a deal, right?” Gordon insisted. If he just did that for nothing...he was going to lose it.

“Yuhh. Yeah. ‘Course. KJ for a BJ, pretty standard exchange,” Benrey said flatly. Gordon wasn’t listening, instead feeling around the HEV suit for soft spots, somewhere he could penetrate the damned thing. 

“You want me to help you take it off?” Benrey asked, still contemplating the knife, testing the tip with a finger.

“No!” Gordon looked up, horrified at the idea. “No I can’t… I don’t want it to think I’m not wearing it.” He didn’t want to mess with the delivery mechanism by removing even a part of it, didn’t want to risk the thing not giving him a dose.

“Right. Yeah.” Benrey said, moving to lean forward on his knees. Without any further prompting from Gordon he took hold of Gordon’s right bicep, clamping his forearm against his side in a surprisingly strong grip. With his other hand he placed the knife against the rubber shoulder of the suit, picking a spot between bones that Gordon was certain would hurt like hell. 

Gordon braced himself. Benrey bit his lip. Then he looked up into Gordon’s eyes. “You sure, man?”

Gordon groaned. It was so close he could almost taste it. But Benrey was still being a bastard for no reason. “YES!” he cried. “You think I would have done...THAT, if I wasn’t s-”

Benrey plunged the knife in, through the rubber, slicing skin, parting muscle, skidding against bone. 

“FFFFFUCK!” Gordon shouted. Benrey kept his arm in a vice-like hold, not allowing him to pull back like his instincts told him to. It was excruciating. And yet, Gordon felt a curious thrill. The knowledge that he’d be getting his much-needed painkiller any second now. The pain was strangely comforting, even as he heaved and trembled.

“Laceration. Detected.” Gordon held his breath, eyes shut, waiting. It didn’t come. But before he could scream his frustration, Benrey twisted the knife, and he was screaming for a different reason. 

“Morphine. Administered.” The HEV suit’s heavenly voice announced his salvation. His scream became a ragged moan of relief. The high obliterated the agony, the sickness, the concern about blood filling up the arm of the suit. 

“Hang on, you fuckin’ baby,” Benrey mumbled as he pulled the knife out, tossing it to the floor with a wet clatter. Gordon winced but found he didn’t care too much. Benrey pulled a medkit from…somewhere.

“Don’t...don’t use that,” Gordon slurred. He didn’t know exactly how the medkits worked, but he was pretty sure plugging it into the suit would wipe out the drug in his blood before he got the full benefit.

“You wanna bleed to death, idiot? Hm. Maybe you should.” Benrey said, pulling out a large wad of gauze from the box’s compartment. Gordon sat against the wall, shutting his eyes as Benrey did whatever he was doing to his arm.

Eventually he was leaning against the other man, taking an extra iota of pleasure from the warmth as he floated in his chemical haze. His head lolled to rest on Benrey’s shoulder.

Time didn’t mean much right now, but it might have been hours before he felt Benrey move away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Um. Mr. Freeman? Are you feeling okay?”

Gordon looked up at Tommy from where he was crouched on the floor, feeling like he was going to throw up any second.

“I’m fine Tommy,” Gordon lied, “Just. Just give me a minute and I’ll be good to go.” He knew a minute wasn’t going to do it. 

“Alright. It’s just...we’ve been here for awhile and...and this area is violating some OSHA. Some protocols. So maybe we should move soon.”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, glancing at the pit of caustic green slime they’d just traversed. “Have you guys seen Benrey?”

“I miss him every day,” Coomer said, sounding at once mournful and overtly jovial.

“No, we haven’t seen him. If we see your boyfriend we’ll tell you so you’ll stop fucking asking us!” Bubby groused.

“He’s not my boyfriend, I just need to talk to him.” Gordon said, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes against the headache creeping into his skull.

“About what? Maybe you could...talk to us? We’re scientists after all.” Gordon could hear the helpful, encouraging smile in Tommy's voice.

“We’re very intelligent!” Dr. Coomer assured.

Gordon seriously debated it. They were scientists. They might even know something about chemical dependence. But Gordon was a scientist too. He was supposed to be smart. And he’d still let this happen. 

He’d been so careless. If he’d been more careful he wouldn’t have gotten injured often enough to get hooked on the suit’s morphine. If he’d been stronger he would have done something as soon as he’d noticed the craving that lingered when he was no longer hurting. But he hadn’t done anything, because it had felt good. And now he was looking for every opportunity to get injured. Now he was making his own opportunities with Benrey’s help.

No, he couldn’t tell the others that he was now sucking cock to get high. 

Or, he would be, if Benrey hadn’t fucking disappeared. It had been two days since the asshole had graced them with his presence, hence Gordon feeling worse than usual. Gordon had no clue why, he’d seemed to enjoy fucking his throat well enough. Stupid of him to assume that would change the whims of an impenetrable bastard.

He’d started to think maybe Benrey was gone for good this time. Before he would have seen it as a blessing. Now a growing mass of dread was making a home in his unsettled stomach. What if Benrey was dead? Gordon would have to find a new way to get his morphine in a relatively safe manner. He’d become not-so-comfortably resigned to what he had to do, and now Benrey had fucked off to who knows where, possibly forever.

“He’s clearly in a self-loathing spiral, let’s just leave his ass,” said Bubby. He turned and immediately left. 

“I’m sorry guys,” Gordon said as Tommy and Coomer had to practically drag him through the next few rooms. “I’m just slowing you down.” Every step felt so pointless and impossible. He just wanted to lay down and wallow in his misery.

“No need to apologize Gordon!” Coomer said. To be fair, he didn’t seem to have much trouble supporting his weight.

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s not your fault if you’re sick,” Tommy said.

That made Gordon feel about ten times worse.

They happened to be close to one of the dormitory complexes, and upon entering the common room they were greeted by a taciturn Bubby and, to Gordon’s mixed relief and horror, Benrey, perched on the counter of the kitchenette.

“Took you guys long enough. I just been chilling here,” Benrey said.

“Look Gordon, it’s Benrey!” Coomer shouted.

“Oh! Mr. Freeman! Now you can talk to him,” Tommy added, painfully hopeful.

But if The Science Team was expecting a touching reunion, Gordon was there to disappoint. Disappointing was becoming his main mode of function. His anger overrode his inability to function, and he stomped over to get in Benrey’s personal space.

“Where the FUCK have you been?” Gordon spat, jabbing Benrey in the chest with an accusing hand. He had to be mad. If he wasn’t he might just get on his knees right here in front of everyone.

“Hm? You miss me?” Benrey asked mildly.

“No, I didn’t miss you. I NEEDED you. And you...fucking. LEFT. I thought you DIED.” He emphasized his point with several more near-shoves. 

“Oh. Uh. ‘m fine.” Benrey’s expression was unreadable, but his cheeks were tinted flush as Gordon got up in his face.

“Do you just like to see me fucking SUFFER? You weren’t even there to enjoy it! I-”

Gordon’s stomach suddenly rebelled, and he turned to dry heave into the sink. The Science Team was silent except for a quiet “jesus” from Bubby as Gordon wretched a few times. Nothing came out.

“He’s been sick…” Tommy tried to explain after a bit, tentatively patting Gordon’s back. 

“No kidding,” Benrey said.

“I do hope it’s not conta-,” Coomer said.

Gordon batted Tommy’s hand away with more force than necessary. “Leave me alone,” he said to the room at large as he managed to haul himself, humiliated, exhausted and trembling into the bathroom. 

After rinsing his mouth out in another sink, Gordon hid in a corner of one of the shower stalls, knees to his chest as he tried to get ahold of himself.

He’d never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Skin crawling, sweating, shaking, unable to throw up. He just wanted it to end, any way it could. 

Gordon thought the room’s acoustics would alert him to anyone coming in, but Benrey was suddenly there, looking at him with a wary kind of pity. But he was here and that was all that mattered. 

“Benrey,” Gordon said, grabbing hold of the guard’s pant-leg. His attitude changed on a dime, rage replaced with contrition, begging for mercy. “Benrey please. I need it right now.” He climbed up Benrey until he was pressed against his crotch, scrabbling, ineffective at the belt buckle.

Benrey swallowed, putting his arm between Gordon’s hands and his fly. “You’re still talking about this shit? Yo um. You think you might have some kinda problem?” 

Gordon paused in his pleading to look agog at Benrey. “Yeah….yeah I have a problem Benrey. The HEV suit turned me into a fucking junkie and the only way I can get the morphine is for you... YOU to hurt me bad enough. I’d say that’s a problem.”

Benrey furrowed his brow. “Thought maybe you’d cut it out if I wasn’t around for awhile to do everything for you...” 

Gordon laughed wildly until he thought he was going to puke again. “You trying to pretend you didn’t enjoy getting sucked off? God, Benrey, you really aren’t human.” Gordon hoped to hell that wasn’t the case. It was the only leverage he had. The only thing he could hope to offer Benrey. 

“Tch,” Benrey scoffed and turned to leave. Gordon grabbed his leg again. 

“Wait! I’m sorry. Sorry, please. You have to help me. You can do anything to me, after. Seriously. You can take off the suit if you want. As long as it can be put back on.” Gordon knew it was a fucked up promise to make, but hopefully he wouldn’t care by the time he fulfilled his part of the bargain.

Benrey was thinking about it. Gordon didn’t want to know what sick possibilities were going through his weird brain. He just wanted him to accept.

“You probably wouldn’t like it. Couldn’t handle it, vanilla ass idiot,” Benrey said. “Might as well just quit cold uh… chicken or whatever.”

“You think I like any of this?” Gordon shot back. “I don’t care Benrey. You don’t know how I fucking feel.”

“You got me there.”

“Benrey. Please. PLEASE. Anything.” Gordon was now literally begging at Benrey’s feet in a public shower. Surely the man was getting off on this.

“What d’you want me to do?” Benrey said at length. The assurance of this almost-agreement was its own little dopamine hit.

“Break my arm,” Gordon said immediately. He’d thought about this. It should be relatively easy to do, and since there would only be two bones at most involved it wouldn’t be as complicated to heal as his finger. Not to mention, a larger injury like that would mean more morphine, which was a definite plus. Especially if he had to endure whatever freak shit Benrey was going to do to him.

“Which one?” Benrey asked, and Gordon was pretty sure he was just stalling. The man shot people with little to no regard all the time. Why was he always so fucking squeamish when it came to Gordon asking him to do this?

“I literally could not care,” Gordon said, then reconsidered, “No, let’s do the right one. Keep all the shit on one side.”

“You’re the boss. I guess,” Benrey said. He put his hand in Gordon’s, and Gordon felt an anticipatory tingling in his gut. Benrey pulled, his other hand pushing at Gordon’s chest. The result was his hand slipping out of the glove and up slightly into the arm of the suit as it stretched out from the flexible shoulder.

“What are you doing? You’re not taking it off now are you?!” Gordon said, panicked.

“I’m not. Bossy bitch,” Benrey muttered. “I know what I’m doing.”

Gordon wondered how the hell he knew. He always seemed to have a pretty good idea of how to do it once Gordon asked him.

After some awkward maneuvering, Gordon was lying flat on his back on the tile with Benrey crouched over him. They were always ending up on the floor together. His arm was now misaligned in the HEV suit, the soft elbow joint over the middle of his forearm. 

Benrey’s knee held the bicep of the suit against the floor, one hand wrapped around the wrist of the forearm. His other hand clamped over the empty glove, keeping Gordon’s arm from slipping back into its intended space. The illusion of his hand missing was unsettling.

It was pretty clear how this was meant to work. When Benrey bent the arm of the suit, the leverage applied in the wrong place would put the needed force on his radius and ulna, bending them against the inflexible arm pieces. Gordon would never have thought of it, and he was a fucking physicist. This was why he needed Benry.

Gordon’s stomach was still doing all kinds of weird somersaults. Apprehension, fear, excitement. He closed his eyes, waiting for Benrey’s usual last attempt to back out. 

But instead Benrey just said, “Heeere we go,” which somehow prepared Gordon even less than the other times. With a deep breath, Benrey wrenched the arm up. The suit moved as intended, flexing at the elbow. Gordon’s bones did not. 

Gordon had told himself he wasn’t going to scream this time. He should be used to it by now. He managed to keep his mouth closed, at least. He still let out a pained howl through his teeth as his forarm snapped with frightening efficiency. 

Gordon instinctively tried to roll over and protect his arm, but ran into Benrey. Benrey put an arm around his shoulder, bracing against him and preventing further damage.

“Major. Fracture. Detected.” the HEV suit said. Gordon clutched at Benrey’s chest with his good hand while he waited, on the verge throwing up yet again. 

“Morphine. Administered.” 

Gordon gave a choked, blissful sob as he melted. God, it was a good hit. Probably made moreso by the fact that he’d gone without for so long. Two days of tension and agony liquified and evaporated.

He laid his head against Benrey’s thigh, looking up at him with a pleasant disinterest. He couldn’t imagine anything Benrey would do could be worse than being sober and in pain.

"What're you gonna do?" Gordon asked.

"Dunno." Benrey was looking back down at him. Gordon found he wasn’t as freaked out by the eye contact this time.

"Gonna fuck my face again?" 

"Your eyes are really green."

"Huh?"

"Your pupils got tiny. So it's all green."

"You gonna come on my eyes?"

"Dunno"

"Gonna fuck my feet?"

"Why you giving me suggestions dude?"

"I dunno. Pretty fucked up right now."

"Yeah. Sit up please?"

Gordon made a noise of faint protest as Benrey pushed him up into a sitting position. He stared at the tile walls while Benrey did something at his back. After an indeterminate amount of time there was a soft pop, and he could feel cool air on his sticky, sweat-soaked back. 

“Noooo,” Gordon whined when he realized Benrey was taking the suit off.

“You said I could take it off,” Benrey reminded him. “You breaking your promise? Some kinda promise-breaker?”

Gordon grunted. If he wasn’t already high he would have fought back. He hated the HEV suit for its restrictions, for creating this problem in the first place, but he was loathe to be separated from it. He needed it. But he had promised. And it did feel nice to let his skin breathe.

He allowed his mind to drift while Benrey peeled away the suit. Once the backplate had been removed, the rest was easy, though getting his broken arm out of its sleeve required more active cooperation. 

Before long Gordon was sitting on the floor in his boxers and tanktop. He rubbed his fingers together, rolling up bits of grime that had built up on his skin. He realized Benrey had disappeared, and wondered again if he was gone for good. The dread wasn’t as bad this time thanks to the morphine, but it was there.

“Hey, hold your arm up,” Benrey, said. Gordon complied, not sure when he’d returned. “...The other one.”

Gordon switched arms. It was more difficult to hold up the broken one. Benrey helped.

“What’s that?” Gordon asked as Benrey began to sandwich his forearm between two strips of metal.

“Some nerd measuring sticks,” Benrey replied, securing the makeshift splint to his arm with some kind of tape. “Do all you scientists keep these in your bedrooms? Very kinky stuff.”

“I have some rulers, yeah,” Gordon said, wondering if this was going to lead into what Benrey was going to do for his half of the exchange. It had all been very tame so far. 

Benrey was gone again. Where did he keep going? He heard the sound of rushing water and Benrey was back.

“There you are,” Gordon said.

“Yup. C’mon. Bath time for baby.” Benrey hauled Gordon up and herded him to stand under the showerhead. He was still in his underclothes, but he didn’t care, because the hot water felt fucking amazing hitting his skin. 

He groaned, leaning on the wall, almost unable to handle the pleasure radiating throughout his body. 

“Good?” Benrey asked. He had taken off his vest and helmet, rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Gordon nodded, eyes shutting.

“Cool.” He felt hands in his hair, blunt fingernails scraping at his scalp in the most delicious way. 

“What’re you doing?” Gordon asked. This was not at all what he’d expected when he’d told Benrey he could do anything.

“Mind your own business,” Benrey said, and Gordon would be pissed off if he wasn’t currently incapable.

Again he let himself drift, floating in a haze of sensory euphoria as Benrey washed him. He couldn’t imagine why the other man was doing this. Maybe he just didn’t want to fuck a guy with a week’s worth of sweat on him. Gordon was certainly enjoying it whatever the reason.

“Stop using your shitty arm,” Benrey said, pulling Gordon out of his trance.

“Wha-?”

“Use your left hand if you’re gonna jack it.”

Gordon looked down, Apparently he was the second person to realize he was attempting to masturbate. The hot water, the contact, the morphine, it all had him feeling so good, there was little wonder he’d gotten hard, erection poking out of the slit in his boxers. 

“I can’t. Never works with the left one.” 

“Why’d you tell me to break the right one?” 

“Wasn’t thinkin’ about that.”

“Well, you are now.”

“Yeah… hey could... you do it…?” Gordon looked up at Benrey, who was wide-eyed and flushed, gaze shying away as soon as Gordon’s got near.

“I- if...I mean, if that’s what you…”

“Pleeease?” Gordon begged. He didn’t sound as anguished as when he was pleading before, but still pathetic in its own way.

Benrey swallowed. “S. Seriously. I gotta do every-fuckin’-thing,” he mumbled as he stepped in a bit more. His sleeve was quickly soaked, dark blue encroaching into the lighter fabric of his shoulder. 

Gordon moaned as the feeling of ecstasy increased tenfold with Benrey’s hand wrapped around him. His strokes seemed unsure and tentative, but with the water and the high, it was definitely one of the best handjobs he’d ever experienced.

“Good?” Benrey asked again.

“Y-yeah. Incredible.”

“Hey...uh...can I…?” Benrey started.

“I said anything,” Gordon replied, too blissed out to care much what it was. Even so, he was rather surprised when Benrey’s face was suddenly inches in front of his.

Surely he wasn’t going to…

But then he was, Benrey’s lips pressing to Gordon’s, soft and achingly gentle. Gordon was utterly baffled. Yet it only added to the pile of fantastic sensation, so he went with it, opening his mouth slightly to allow Benrey in further. 

It went on like that for a while. Benrey’s strokes got more confident as he worked Gordon’s cock diligently. He would occasionally move his head, kiss Gordon’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Gordon thought he felt his tongue circling the cigarette burn scar at some point. But he kept returning to Gordon’s mouth, like he wanted to get as much of it as possible while he could. Gordon couldn't understand it, but he could relate. He wished he could feel this way forever. It was such a stark contrast from how he’d been suffering just an hour ago, sick, hurting, and wretchedly hopeless.

Surely no one was meant to experience such extreme highs and lows.

“Are you close?”

“Uh? You’re like two centimeters from me.” Gordon said.

“To coming.”

“Oh. Prob’ly won’t. Morphine is uh... an orgasm suppressant.”

Benrey blinked at him. He was fully soaked now. Hair and shirt plastered to his skin. “You were just gonna let me keep going forever?”

“Feels good.”

“Uh huh.” Benrey leaned in again, and he did keep going. Until the water started to get cold.


	4. Chapter 4

Gordon’s eyes were so, so green like this, pupils constricted down to pinpoints. Benrey wanted to stare. He could, with Gordon as out to lunch as he was. He could do it without losing his nerve or getting yelled at. He could do it forever.

He could kiss Gordon forever. Even if it was as hollow as his unfocused eyes. He could stand here getting drenched and kiss him and stroke his cock for the rest of eternity.

But the water was getting cold and Benrey was pretty sure humans could get sick from being cold.

He turned off the water and sat Gordon on one of the benches. He stood behind him, and set to work drying his hair.

“Are you gonna do something fucked up with my hair?” Gordon asked. 

Benrey thought about it. Imagined tugging Gordon’s head back by his hair, wrapping the locks around his dick. Maybe try fucking the tunnel made by the hair tie. Coming deep inside and rubbing it into Gordon’s scalp.

“Huh?” Benrey replied. He squeezed water out of Gordon’s hair, then scrubbed at it with a towel.

He’d noticed red dots on the tank top along Gordon’s back when he took the suit off, and they hadn’t washed out in the shower. The blood must be too old, going back to when the suit first started giving morphine. Benrey pulled the shirt off the pliant Gordon, careful not to jostle the broken arm. He ran a finger over the little puncture wounds in Gordon’s spine, inflamed from repeated injections.

“Gonna come on my back?” Gordon asked.

Benrey thought about it. Thought about splattering Gordon’s back, semen seeping into those tiny needle holes in his skin, poisoning his blood like the morphine. Maybe he’d get addicted to Benrey’s cum instead.

“Mn,” Benrey said. He pulled Gordon’s soaked underwear off. Gordon’s erection had subsided. Benrey’s hadn’t.

He finished drying Gordon and dropped the towel over his lap.

“Stay there.” 

Benrey sequestered himself in a bathroom stall to jack off, thinking about Gordon’s fucked up eyes and his stupid idiot body and his shitty voice that sucked so hard and also his mouth which actually sucked really well that one time. He flushed his cum down the toilet when he was finished.

He found a dry guard’s uniform in one of the lockers and changed. 

Gordon was where he’d left him, laying down on the bench now.

He used another towel to make a sling for Gordon’s arm. 

“Let’s go. Nap time,” Benrey said, pulling Gordon up again. 

He deposited Gordon into one of the least cluttered looking dorm room beds, 

“Gonna...mess up some stranger’s bed with your…. your alien Powerade jizz?” Gordon asked, already half passed out.

Benrey thought about it. Imagined fucking Gordon into further incoherence, getting as deep inside of him as he could, till Gordon couldn’t think about anything, till he forgot pain and anger and craving for anything except more of Benrey. Thought about letting his alien Powerade jizz leak out of Gordon’s ass onto the mattress while Benrey held him, kissed the back of his neck until he was asleep. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Benrey muttered, turning out the light. He left, shut the door behind him. 

He went back to the bathroom to retrieve the HEV suit and Gordon’s underclothes, sopping wet, crumpled and blood-spotted, ice cold on the floor. He put his face in his hands and screamed a few blue and red notes into them.

He watched the viscous purple goo mixing and dripping through his fingers, making its inevitable trek down to the drain in the center of the floor.

“Bathroom’s free...Open.” Benrey said to the others as he entered the main room.

“About time,” Bubby grumbled. He and Dr. Coomer were sitting on the couch, watching static on the television.

“I trust Gordon is feeling better then?” Dr. Coomer asked.

“I guess.” Benrey replied. He put the wet tank top and boxers in the oven and turned it on.

He plopped the HEV suit onto the dining table and sat down next Tommy.

“Tommy, you know how the Hev suit works?” 

“Mm, theoretically,” Tommy said, scooting over with interest. He offered Benrey one of several cans of soda he had gathered. Benrey picked grape. “I’ve read the manual but I’ve never put. Um. Put my hands on it. Is it broken?”

“No. But…” Benrey prodded at the sheathes in the backplate that housed the needles, “I think this part is making Feetman shitty. Making him sick.”

Tommy leaned in, examining the needles. He glanced back at Benrey. Benrey focused on opening his can.

“Oh,” Tommy turned his attention back to the suit, “And you... want to disable it?”

“Maybe...I dunno.” Benrey fiddled with the soda can tab. 

“Well. You could break the needles. Or um. You could break this part. Where the chemicals are stored.” Tommy pulled the suit closer to him, tracing a hidden path from the needles, along the inside of the suit to the bulky chestplate.

“Orrr…” Tommy said, taking a thoughtful sip of soda, “You could mess it up here.” He pointed to an inside seam under the arm. Peeling the padding back revealed a set of IV tubes set into the side of the suit, carrying drugs from the front to the back. Tommy leveled his gaze at Benrey again. “The suit wouldn’t detect it was broken.” 

And neither would Gordon.

Benrey thought about it. The morphine running uselessly down the inside of the suit. It would be after Gordon had gotten hurt, of course, or convinced Benrey to hurt him.

“It...might make Mr. Freeman more sick. For awhile.” Tommy warned after a bit.

“Yeah.” Benrey rested his forehead on the table. 

“Benrey it’s...not your responsibility. To make Mr. Freeman um. Feel better.”

“Mn.” Benrey said into the fake wood tabletop. 

Tommy patted his shoulder and left, joining a now sleeping Coomer and Bubby on the couch.

Benrey pulled out the knife he’d used to cut Gordon, examined it. 

Gordon had sucked him off, choked on it and swallowed it all just so Benrey would cut him. He’d begged him, touched him, gotten so close to him. The look of need in Gordon’s eyes was intoxicating. Need for Benrey. Gordon NEEDED him. Would keep needing him.

Benrey thought about it. Gordon kneeling for him. Begging for him. Doing anything for him. Again and again and again forever.

Gordon didn’t need Benrey, of course. He needed the injuries, the suit, the morphine. The idiot would never have let Benrey kiss him otherwise. The blowjob wasn’t real, as awesome as it had been. It was all fake and quite possibly gay. 

Benrey was used to fake shit, as well as gay shit. He could use Gordon like Gordon was using him, easy. He just had to keep doing what he was doing.

Benrey thought about it. Thought about Gordon’s suffering, the sounds of his pain, the vacant look in his absurdly green eyes.

Benrey sliced into the HEV suit’s seam, severing the IV tubes.


	5. Chapter 5

Gordon felt...fine, all things considered. He'd woken up with a broken arm, sure, but it had been splinted and slinged, which would greatly aid the healing process. It was a good thing someone thought of it, because he certainly hadn’t been planning beyond getting it broken so he could get his morphine. 

He’d also gotten valuable hours of sleep in an actual bed. His underwear had a few mysterious burn marks on them, but they were cleaner than when he’d last remembered being in them. 

His memories of the previous night were fuzzy. Benrey had pried him out of the suit, there had been a truly amazing shower… And then Gordon had been in bed and Benrey had been gone. He’d told Benrey he could do anything he wanted, and that’s all he did? 

It was...confusing, to be certain. But with The Science Team (mostly Bubby) hassling him to get moving, Gordon had more pressing issues to be concerned with. Namely, using the nearby medstation to knit his arm back together and getting a rather awkward Tommy to help him close up the HEV suit. 

Gordon cornered Benrey in a server room a few hours later, when the team had agreed to take a short break. It was a routine now. He just had to break down whatever wishy-washy bullshit walls Benrey was putting up this time.

“Jeez dude, already?” Benrey said, leaning against the wall. He looked more fidgety than usual, even more reluctant to meet Gordon’s eyes.

“I just wanna get ahead of it, y’know?” Gordon had to move closer to hear and be heard over the hum of the computer equipment.

“Not really.”

“I don’t wanna get sick.” Gordon explained slowly, as if talking to a child. “Because it fucking sucks.” 

Benrey crossed his arms, turned his head away, closing himself off, “Are your stupid bones even fixed yet?”

“Yes, it’s fine!” Gordon waved his right arm around to demonstrate. It was still a bit tender, but that didn’t really matter. “Christ, why is it always like pulling teeth with you?” 

“I’m not pulling your teeth out, man.”

“That’s no-...,” Gordon’s exasperation faded into contemplation as he considered the idea. It would be pretty easy, and wouldn’t impair his movement. If not for the fact that a medstation wouldn’t regrow his teeth... Then again, he could always get an implant, if he ever got out of here. And if he didn’t get out of here, well, who could give a shit about his teeth? “Actually, yeah...yeah I think that would work. I bet there’s some pliers around here somewhere...”

Benrey turned to look at him now, eyebrows raised in alarm. “Wha- No way.”

“Fine, just break my arm again then,” Gordon said, thrusting his arm out for Benrey to work his magic. Benrey looked away again, peered at him out of the corner of his eye. He made no move to acquiesce.

Gordon sighed, rolling his eyes. “You want me to suck you off first? Fine.” He closed in, turning Benrey towards him so he could start undoing his vest. 

“Nah. You suck at uh… blowjob,” Benrey said, pointedly not assisting in getting undressed.

Gordon glared at him. Any lingering pleasant feeling he’d had from the morphine was quickly draining. It was being replaced by the usual frustration and dread that he wasn’t going to be able to get what he needed. He just had to try harder. He pressed in closer. “Then what do you want, Benrey? Would you rather fuck me? Is that it?” he snarled into Benrey’s ear. “I know you didn’t do everything you wanted to yesterday…”

Benrey made a strange little noise and started to inch away.“Uh...nah. I’m not feelin’ it. Tired. Headache. Read the room, bro.”

“I think I AM reading the room, actually,” Gordon said, placing his hand over Benrey’s erection, kneading the very apparent hardness through his trousers. Benrey made another interesting sound. “Why are you being like this? Do you just like fucking with me?” He lowered his voice, “Nevermind, I know you do. Consider me fucked with, alright? Now PLEASE can you just-”

“Back OFF,” Benrey said suddenly, shoving Gordon away with that surprising strength. Gordon landed his ass on the concrete floor, hard enough to daze him slightly.

“What the- hell, man. C’mon, I need-” Gordon pleaded.

“I can’t. Sorry, I can’t. Fuckin’... uh... seeya...” And with that Benrey booked it out the door. 

“Wait, no what the fuck, come back!” By the time Gordon had scrambled to his feet and made it to the door, he’d lost sight of Benrey, no idea which way he’d gone in the twist of hallways they were currently embedded in.

“FUCK!” Gordon shouted. He buried his face in his hands and shouted it a few more times. He leaned on the doorframe, feeling like he was going to be sick, even though he wasn’t due for that just yet.

Gordon couldn’t begin to puzzle out what Benrey’s issue was. Just that his problem made Gordon’s problem bigger. He could feel his own headache coming on. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. 

Stupid. Stupid of him to rely on Benrey in the first place... If Benrey wasn’t going to help him out he’d have to get over his aversion and help himself.

Gordon did end up finding a pair of pliers, decided to keep them handy for when he got really desperate. It wasn’t like his life could get much worse at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha nooo Gordon don't pull out your teeth. I dunno if the HEV suit can even detect that.
> 
> It's not gonna happen but I'm definitely imagining Gordon laying on the ground while Benrey holds him down with his knee on his chest and yanks his tooth out with some pliers. Haha oh noooo~


	6. Chapter 6

And then they cut off his fucking hand. His favorite hand, too; though he hadn’t been treating it very well as of late.

And what’s more, the morphine injections didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot for it. Maybe it was the severity of the injury, the bloodloss, maybe shock, but Gordon didn’t feel like he was getting the full effect. There was an initial burst of relief when he heard the suit announce it, but it wore off very quickly, leaving him dizzy and sick with pain.

He should count himself lucky that the HEV suit still worked with part of it missing, that the auto-tourniquet feature was intact, keeping him from bleeding out. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel fortunate about any part of the situation.

By some miracle he’d managed to reunite with Tommy, at which point things got pretty insane. He was functioning on pure adrenaline throughout the Coomer and Bubby...ordeals, but now that things had reached what passed for normalcy in this unending nightmare, he was running on empty.

“Now that we’ve wiped out the entire U.S. Military, I say we take a well deserved rest!” Dr. Coomer chirped. Gordon envied his eternal optimism. Maybe there was some sort of peace in eliminating all your clones.

They’d come upon a spot the military grunts had dug in, a miniature base set up in a warehouse. Everything was olive drab canvas; tents and cots and medical bags. Gordon was in one and on one and using one, Tommy helping him wrap his disinfectant soaked wrist in bandages. He was half out of the HEV suit, stripped to the waist so he could clean the stump where his hand used to be, a more traditional rubber tourniquet blocking blood flow.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked. He’d been the only person to approach sympathy since the amputation, which may have had something to do with a sense of guilt that was radiating off of him. Gordon didn’t know where that was coming from, Tommy was the least culpable for what had happened to his hand. Maybe he was just that nice a person.

“Yeah, would love to have my hand back,” Gordon sighed, laying back on the too-short cot, “But I think I’ll be fine with some rest for now. Thanks.”

“Okay, well, um. Shout if you need anything,” Tommy made a hasty exit from the tent. Gordon screwed his eyes shut, wishing the morphine was working so he could pass out. But he was nauseous and sweaty and anxious, and most of all, hurting.

His hand was gone, but it felt like the whole thing was there, every nerve engulfed in white hot, throbbing fire. It was the most sustained pain he’d been in since this all started. The medstations they’d encountered had all been empty, more punishment Gordon was fairly sure he didn’t deserve.

He would have liked to say that this was the worst it could get, but making such assumptions hadn’t worked out for him in the very recent past. 

And as if he’d tempted fate, the person he least wanted to see appeared, silhouetted in the opening of the tent.

“Hhh yo what uh. What happened to your arm?” Benrey asked, stepping inside. “F. Fucked up, huh?” If he’d been pale and fidgeting the last time Gordon saw him, he was doubly so now. 

“You damn well KNOW what happened, you fucker.” Gordon cringed as his stomach twisted into a cramped knot. Fuck, why the hell did it feel like withdrawal? The suit had given him a shot not a half hour ago. 

“I didn’t... Uh. Those guys. Rude. Jerks, right?” Benrey sounded like he was having a lot of trouble getting this out. Gordon had little sympathy. “I...they weren’t supposed to. Cut. Gonna-... confiscate their passports.”

“If I had two hands I would strangle you to death right here and now.” Gordon rolled over to face the tent wall.

“Yeah. Okay…” Gordon thought he’d left when he spoke again. “Hey I got… got something for ya.” Benrey said, his voice was closer.

“Is it a fucking bullet for my brain?”

“Huh? No, shut up.” The metal frame of the cot creaked in protest as Benrey sat on the edge. “I been cooking it up. Special order for you, valued customer, sir.”

Gordon let Benrey roll him back over, unable to find the will to protest. He was a little more disturbed when Benrey’s face was suddenly very close to his. Hadn’t this happened before? Maybe in a dream, he wasn’t sure. Still, it was no less alarming. His heart-rate picked up, he felt unbalanced despite laying down.

“Hot ‘n’ fresh,” Benrey said, staring at him expectantly. Gordon stared back for a moment, no idea what he was talking about. Benrey couldn’t possibly do anything for him. Adding more pain on top of all this wasn’t likely to suddenly make the morphine more effective.

“What the f-” But as soon as Gordon opened his mouth so did Benrey. He spewed some of that weird sound shit right into Gordon’s mouth, a couple of neon teal and green orbs splashing over his tongue and throat. The effect was nearly immediate. He didn’t have time to get over his surprise and start being pissed off again.

“Hhhuh,” Gordon sighed as his brain seemed to unlatch from the mutilated, wretched anchor of his body. It wasn’t the same as morphine, not as good. But morphine hadn’t been helping much lately, so this, whatever it was, was more than welcome.

His anger with Benrey, with anything, dissolved gradually as he felt the world and his mind rotate at a snail’s pace, while his body remained stationary. His pain was forgotten, though he was still aware of his discomfort, and the craving. But it was manageable. He felt...at peace, happy, but he didn’t get as lost in the sensation as he did on morphine. He could stay mostly present.

“That do anything for you?” Benrey asked. He sat back up, watching Gordon out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, something....Could you…always do that?” Gordon mumbled as he jellified into the canvas beneath him, luxuriating in the absence of absolute despair.

“Yeah. I mean. No. I been working on it, like I said. Try listening sometime, idiot.”

“God...it’s…” Gordon struggled to articulate the feeling. He decided he didn’t need to. Instead he just focused on appreciating the relief, the respite from his bodily and mental grief.

It was good, but...he could feel it already wearing off, pain and agony gnawing at the edges of his awareness. Small but inevitable, always returning.

“Hey…” he reached for Benrey’s arm, remembered he didn’t have a hand. The re-realization didn’t absolutely destroy his psyche like it had every other time. He grabbed Benrey’s wrist with his other hand. 

“Wha?”

“Can I…get some more?” Gordon tried to look pathetic. He didn’t have to try too hard.

“Good stuff huh? Should charge you for that shit.” 

Gordon adjusted his body, trying to make his mouth more accessible. “I mean. We already have, like. A system right?” Gordon swallowed, parted his lips. 

“Wh- Thhh. You don’t have t-”

“C’mon, please,” Gordon said impatiently, he grabbed Benrey’s tie to pull him closer. Benrey’s face flushed as he glanced away and back, eyes darting to Gordon’s mouth. 

“G-gimme a second,” Benrey breathed, drawing back against Gordon’s hold a bit. “Gotta think about it. Cook it up in my- the brain oven.” Gordon gave a short laugh, and Benrey shifted, flushing further. He looked away again, apparently unable to concentrate. Gordon allowed it, but as soon as Benrey’s mouth opened he pulled him down to close the gap. 

The Voice was muffled in Gordon’s own mouth as he greedily took what Benrey was giving him. He didn’t want to lose any of it so he locked their lips together. He licked at the familiar taste as it poured into him, the euphoria seeping back. They had done this before, hadn’t they? Something like it. 

Benrey’s lips were still on his, though the sound had stopped. Gordon slipped his tongue into Benrey’s mouth, wanting to capture any lingering bit of it. Benrey shuddered against him, made a little sound in the back of his throat, pulled away after a few seconds.

“Hmmm,” Gordon flopped back onto the cot, licking his lips as his eyes slipped closed. “What d’you want?” He felt blindly for Benrey’s crotch, hand finding his thigh and sliding up. “I’ll do my best with… you know. Limitations.” He brandished his injured arm.

“Uh? ... ’s free, man. First one’s free,” Benrey said, his muscles tense under Gordon’s hand, like he was caught between bolting and pouncing. 

Gordon opened his eyes so he could roll them, languid and slow. “You helped me out in the showers right? I wanna pay you back.”

“Why’s it always gotta be about payment?” Benrey’s hands gripped the edge of the cot, friction of his twisting grip sending little vibrations along the frame.

“That’s how the world works.”

“The world sucks. You suck.” 

“If you want.”

Benrey chewed on his lip. Gordon wondered why he was so fucking conflicted. Was he that bad at getting Benrey off?

Something broke, and Benrey shifted; his expression, his body, his aura. He pulled his helmet off, started undoing his vest. Gordon got to work on his belt. 

“Fuck,” Gordon muttered as he struggled with the buckle, once again remembering his hand was gone. He wondered how long that would keep happening. 

“I got it, ” Benrey said, hand tangling with Gordon’s to pull the leather out of the loop.

“Not gonna bitch about having to do everything yourself?”

“Shut up.” 

“You’re always so...ready to go,” Gordon observed, hand feeling out the other man’s arousal.

“It’s a uh….not human thing.” Benrey said, twitching under Gordon’s touch, batting his hand away again to pull his pants down.

“Weird.” 

“Yeah.” 

Gordon watched Benrey watching him begin to stroke, saw him wince. 

“Seriously man, don’t you know how to do anything?” Benrey pulled Gordon’s hand away, up to his mouth.

“Jesus,” Gordon breathed as Benrey’s long tongue slathered over his palm, coating it with saliva. The sensation lit along his arm, down his spine. 

“Huh?” Benrey said, letting his hand go. Gordon didn’t have an answer. He just got back to his task, the going much smoother now as he moved his fist up and down, twisted his wrist. 

Benrey squirmed, seeming unsure of where to look, where to put his hands. 

“Hey, move, would you?” Benrey was still sat on the edge of the cot, facing away from Gordon. It was highly awkward, and not just in a social, mental capacity. 

“Wh-”

“This way,” Gordon nodded his head, nudged Benrey’s thigh. Benrey hesitated, waffled for a few seconds, then moved, swinging his leg over Gordon’s waist to straddle him. Gordon swallowed, now he was finding it hard to pick somewhere to look. 

Benrey braced his arms on either side of the cot behind him, leaning back slightly, hips thrust forward into Gordon’s grip. Benrey licked his lips, mouth open, looking down through hooded eyes. 

Gordon ducked his head, keeping his eyes on Benrey’s cock as he stroked. Down here he couldn’t ignore the fact that Benrey was uncircumcised, foreskin sliding up and down with his hand. That he had tightly curled black hair surrounding his shaft and creeping up his belly and along the tops of his thighs. That his balls, heavy and full, resting on Gordon’s crotch, would have to go largely neglected since Gordon had only one hand to work with. 

He also couldn’t ignore the way Benrey panted, the way he groaned quietly when Gordon rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, the way his weight bore down on Gordon's thighs. He hadn’t been paying attention to all this the last time he was this close, too high or too desperate to get high to notice much of anything.

“Ah! God- fucking damnit-” Gordon hissed as his bandaged wrist bumped uselessly against the waist of the HEV suit, sending a frisson of pain up his arm, breaching the barrier of the Voice. 

“I-idiot,” Benrey huffed.

“Fuck off,” Gordon growled, but he was certainly glad Benrey did not fuck off, that he instead helped peel the suit further down, freeing Gordon’s erection. 

Benrey’s hand hovered over him, fingers twitching. Gordon looked up to see Benrey watching him, a question on his flushed face. Gordon nodded. Benrey pulled his hand away.

"Hey, wh- cmon," Gordon protested, pausing his caresses as ransom.

"Kinda...d- desperate, huh?" Benrey taunted as he licked his own hand this time. Gordon decided not to point out that Benrey had seen him in much more dire straits. He just resumed his hand movement, squeezing the base in a combination apology and retaliation. 

"Mhh." Benrey quickly stopped teasing and took hold of Gordon, matching the rhythm of his own strokes. 

The cot rocked and creaked with their combined movements, their pants mingling with the sound of strain on military issue equipment. Gordon tried to lose himself in the feeling of Benrey’s hot, slippery grip. But his arm was throbbing, the earlier impact breaking the spell of the Voice, reminding him that anything but pleasure existed. 

“Benrey."

“Wh- Yeah?”

“C’mere.” Gordon tilted his head up, parted his lips. Benrey’s Adam’s apple bobbed, he leaned in. 

“I need some... the Voice.”

“Oh. Greedy little… mouth suck man,” Benrey exhaled, breath rushing past Gordon’s cheek.

Gordon hooked his ruined arm around the back of Benrey’s neck, pulling him down. “Please.” It did seem to be the magic word.

He latched onto Benrey’s lips again, drinking in the Sweet Voice. The sonorous notes reverberated in his skull, the resonance itself seeming to jostle and reconfigure his brain, flooding it with dopamine. He moaned, a poor, insignificant harmony to Benrey’s unearthly tone. 

Benrey’s tongue, long, strange, and flexile, slid into Gordon’s mouth, sneaking in among the orbs of Sweet Voice. Gordon met it with his own, exploring it with distracted interest, hardly registering that they were now definitely making out. 

A mirror of their mouths, Benrey had insinuated his and Gordon’s cocks together, sliding against each other, slick with Benrey’s saliva. Their hands jostled awkwardly for purchase before settling together, forming a tight channel to thrust into. The friction was irresistible and Gordon canted his hips, yes, desperately. 

Benrey was fucking against him harder, into their hands faster. Gordon tightened his grip, pulled Benrey against him closer, licked his tongue along the roof of Benrey's mouth. Benrey's voice cracked, became a heated moan as he trembled against him. He came all over their hands and dicks, hips heaving erratically. 

As Benrey's voice changed so did the Voice, shifting abruptly from a cool, almost minty flavor to a heavy, cloyingly sweet taste. Suddenly and without warning, Gordon's cock spasmed, almost painfully, as his orgasm was forced from him. He tensed, a keening whine ripped from deep within his core. There was nothing for awhile, just all encompassing, overwhelming bliss.

"Holy...wh-...th-..." Gordon panted once he was able to form a half coherent thought, a good minute later.

"Sorry. Uh... got distracted. Carried away." He became aware of Benrey, still sitting astride him, inspecting his messy palm and then lapping at it. 

"You gotta...gotta be careful with that shit." Gordon stared, still feeling quite unmoored, unable to comment on Benrey tasting his jizz. 

"Didn't like it?" Benrey asked, and Gordon couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or genuinely thought Gordon hadn't enjoyed himself. 

"No, it was...good." A gross understatement. "Just, wasn't expecting it." He bonelessly let Benrey wipe up the pale blue mess on his own hand with some of the extra gauze from the medic bag, feeling like his whole body was liquid. "Especially since. You know, with the morphine. It's a uh..."

"Orgasm suppressor." Benrey looked away.

Gordon tilted his head curiously, a monumental effort, "...Yeah."

"It's not morphine," Benrey said, rather terse. “It’s Black Mesa Sweet Voice.”

"I know, but the suit gave me a shot an hour ago."

"Mn." Benrey busied himself with looking for somewhere to put the soiled cum bandages. 

"Huh. I was supposed to be paying you back but. I mean. You didn't have to get me off. I guess I still owe you one." 

"That's not...wh-," Benrey stood up, the uncharitable way he shifted over Gordon might have hurt if his pain receptors hadn't been disabled. "You don't…owe me shit."

"Then why are you helping me?"

Benrey leveled him with an unimpressed glare, stuffing the bangages into his pocket. “Use your stupid fucking science brain, Dr. P-H-D. Develop a hypotheosis. Or whatever...” 

Gordon fought with the fog in his brain to parse what Benrey was saying. None of it made sense. Benrey could have just let Gordon flounder in his suffering. Why would he even bother to put in the effort? He said he’d been “working” on the Sweet Voice thing.

“Benrey are you…?” He looked over, but Benrey was gone. Shit. When had that happened? He debated getting up and finding him, but he felt fused to the cot, wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. If Benrey needed space Gordon wasn’t going to crowd him. Not when he was perfectly content, anyway. 

He let his eyes shut, his mind sink deeper into itself, wondering hazily how Benrey knew the morphine hadn't been doing its job, that he needed an alternative.


	7. Chapter 7

Benrey was beginning to consider that maybe he wasn’t very good at planning. Everything was falling apart with alarming speed.

Plan 1 was simple.

  * Cut off Gordon's morphine supply.
  * No morphine.
  * No problem.



But he hadn’t thought ahead, to when Gordon was yet again begging for him to break his arm, pull out his fucking teeth. If Benrey did it, Gordon would probably notice something was wrong. Benrey didn’t want to do it anyway, not when he’d have to hear Gordon whining and there was no painkiller for him. And he certainly didn’t want to have to admit what he’d done.

He’d excised himself from the situation, retreated to make a new plan.

Plan 2 was a little more complicated, and admittedly not the best idea.

  * Gordon’s whining and begging and assurance that Benrey can fuck him are too much, too tempting.
  * Give Gordon to U.S. Military.
  * No Gordon.
  * No problem.



Bubby had been grumbling about doing something like this for a while, so he was all for Plan 2. Gordon was slowing them down. Gordon was a shitty mess. Gordon was an idiot. It was all true, of course, but Benrey hadn’t seen it as much of a problem until very recently. The soldiers Benrey had skulked around with were always talking about wanting to capture Freeman. It seemed the perfect method to get Gordon out of Benrey’s hands. Let the U.S. Military deal with his whining and begging.

Though, the thought of Gordon offering to get fucked by them was not incredibly appealing. But the whole point of this exercise was to get Gordon off of Benrey’s mind anyway. It shouldn’t matter what happened after he was in their custody.

Benrey had imagined a nice cozy cell for Gordon. Some light interrogation. Detox in custody. The knowledge that, even if Benrey would never see him again, he was probably fine.

He had not expected them to cut off Gordon’s fucking hand and throw him in a big trashcan (even if that was a pretty fitting place for him). Benrey’s blood, already kind of cold, had frozen at the site of all that hot, red, Gordon blood spilling out on the concrete. It took him a second to realize that Gordon wouldn’t be getting morphine to help him with what was probably quite painful, judging by all the screaming he was doing.

Plan 2 was a spectacular, violent failure. Benrey couldn’t foist his Gordon problem on the government. He had to develop a third plan.

Plan 3 was, in Benrey’s opinion, pretty brilliant.

  * Gordon in pain.
  * Gordon likes to feel good.
  * Give Gordon pain relief.
  * Make Gordon feel good.
  * No morphine.
  * No problem.



He only regretted not thinking of it earlier. It required some experimentation. Easy because he happened to be trapped in a science facility. It also required some time. This was also easy because he happened to be taking a break from The Science Team after accidentally getting their leader’s hand cut off.

A pack of peeper puppies provided the perfect test subjects. Benrey worked on the color and sound combos while he was in self-imposed exile, not to return until he had something useful.

A peeper puppy might have died, and another seemed permanently chilled out to the point of catatonia. That was mildly enticing. Gordon was sort of nice when he was out of it, in a jello-y, zero-resistance sort of way. But he was also boring. Couldn’t rile him up. Benrey kept working.

The results of his efforts had more than exceeded his expectations. Benrey had thought he might get on speaking terms with Gordon again, if he was lucky. He never imagined kissing him (not true, he’d imagined it plenty of times), touching dicks and tongues while they got off together. He wondered if he’d made a mistake with his formula, but none of the peeper puppies had ever tried to hump his leg or anything.

And what’s more, even after Benrey got a bit huffy and left their little tent tryst, Gordon kept kissing him. He obviously liked the Sweet Voice’s effects, and wanted some every hour or so while The Science Team continued towards the Lambda Lab. Gordon would pull him into an alcove and devour the teal and green notes, straight from Benrey’s mouth.

They didn’t have to be kissing, necessarily. But Gordon seemed to want to be as close to the source as possible. Benrey certainly wasn’t going to complain. He couldn’t be more pleased with himself, really. He’d managed to find Gordon a less-destructive way to deal with his craving, and he was getting to make out with him on the regular.

Plan 3 was going pretty damn well.

Gordon found him waiting in a truly dismal, dimly lit breakroom meant for non-scientist staff, sitting on a table against the wall. They were, according to Coomer’s estimation, an hour out from the cybernetics lab, where Gordon could get something done for his hand. Or lack of.

Gordon had recently found a medstation with enough juice to do some good for his wound. It had gone from a messy, bloody pulp to a mass of too-quickly grown scar tissue, pink and tender looking. It probably still hurt.

“There you are,” Gordon said, mild annoyance tinging his voice. Yes, non-catatonic Gordon was better, Benrey decided.

“Hey. Time for baby’s medicine?” Benrey asked, licking his lips.

“Ew. Don’t...say it like that. But uh, yeah. Just a couple...orbs this time.”

“You got it. Two balls coming up.”

“Ugh.” Gordon shut him up with his lips, demanding and impatient.

Benrey obliged, sang the stuff into him, felt Gordon relaxing against him. He didn’t even mind how sweaty he was. Hell, he’d be more than happy to lick it all off of him.

“Okay…” Gordon said, pulling back with a slight, doped-up grin, “Now, I need you to break my arm again. Should be easier for me now with the Sweet Voice.”

“Wh-...What?” Benrey stuttered, recoiling in Gordon’s grasp. That’s the last thing he wanted to hear. “Fuckin’...why? I thought we... I mean...this works, right?” He was under the impression that they had fixed this.

Gordon sighed, letting him go. “Yeah, it’s...fine. But it’s not that simple,” He started, attempting patience with Benrey’s apparent naiveté, “I still...my body still needs the morphine. I’m still sick. And the Sweet Voice is like a Band-Aid. A Band-Aid for something like this only does so much, you know?” He held up his right wrist. Benrey averted his eyes. He didn’t like looking at the results of his mounting fuckups.

“Hasn’t been doing much for you lately, has it?” Benrey pointed out. Gordon narrowed his eyes, Benrey swallowed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because I got my goddamn hand cut off. Now that it’s…better, I can go back to...normal,” Gordon said. Even he looked mildly amazed at the absurdity coming out of his mouth.

“Don’t you think you should uh…” Benrey looked off again, “Get to where you don’t need it?”

Gordon rolled his eyes, composure wearing thin. “Yeah, yes. Of course. I will. I just…I just need it one more time. Then I’ll...do whatever I have to do.”

Benrey frowned. Was that true? Jefferem was always vowing to quit smoking. They were always smoking their last cigarette. Even gave Benrey the rest of the pack one time to prove it. But they never did quit.

“No.”

“You want me to beg again?” Gordon’s frustration cut through the sluggish tone Sweet Voice gave him. “I’m begging. Please Benrey, PLEASE. You know you can fuck me afterwards.”

Benrey chewed on his tongue. Stupid one-two combo of begging and fuck-offer. It never failed to fill Benrey’s head with vivid images. Gordon under him, on top of him, all around him, moaning, quivering, begging for more. “Nah. You want more Sweet Voice that’s cool. But I’m not doing your mascosism stuff anymore.”

“Maso- Ugh. Nevermind. Why not?”

“It-...no fun. Big sucks. I hate it.”

“I don’t CARE if you don’t like it. I don’t like it. But it’s the only way I can get it.” That wasn’t the case anymore, of course. Benrey could crack all manner of bones, slice all manner of skin, Gordon would get nothing from the suit but a smooth, robotic voice. Benrey could prove it to him with a practical demonstration, but the thought of it turned his stomach.

“Guess you’re not getting it, then.”

Gordon growled, gave Benrey a dismissive shove against the wall he was leaning on, and turned away.

“Fucking...fine. I’ll do it myself.” Gordon produced a pair of pliers. Benrey’s heart skipped a beat. Was he really going to…?

Without thinking he lunged forward, tackling Gordon to the ground from behind.

“Hhk- Ow! Wh-what the fuck!” Gordon yelled, breathless, struggling against Benrey.

“You can’t.” Benrey wrenched the pliers from Gordon.

“It’s none of your...FUCKING business! Give those back!” Gordon spat. He managed to turn over, to push against Benrey in an even more futile manner than if he’d had both hands.

Benrey had a hand on his chest, holding him down with ease. He sent the pliers skidding across the floor with the other hand. “It won’t work.” He felt the blood draining from his face as the reality that he was going to have to come clean hit him.

“What?”

“Mn. Uh. I mighta...donesomethingtothehevsuit.” Benrey’s fingers tingled, it felt hard to get a good breath. His gaze darted to and from Gordon at an alarming clip.

“What!?”

“Mightanerfedyoursuitcauseitmakesyousick.”

“S...say that again,” Gordon abruptly switched from trying to push Benrey away to holding onto him, grabbing onto his tie.

Benrey was cringing now, eyes anywhere but Gordon, mostly on the door. “I might have... messed with your suit. B-because it was making you sick.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Gordon demanded, voice cracking.

“Tommy showed me where I could break the suit. So it wouldn’t give you the morphine.” Benrey yanked his tie back and sat up. Now that Gordon knew, there was no need to hold him down to keep him from hurting himself. “I asked him to though it wasn’t his idea okay please be nice to Tommy.”

Gordon blinked, Benrey watched him out of the corner of his eye, heart racing. Plan 3 was imploding at a terrible pace.

Suddenly Gordon surged up, pushed Benrey to the ground, reversed their positions.

“Oof,” said Benrey. That seemed the sort of thing people said when they were knocked to the floor.

“You fucking...fucked with the HEV suit?” Gordon summed up, like he still didn’t fucking get it. Benrey could almost see the gears turning in his brain.

“That stuff’s not good for you man,” Benrey said, making brief, painful eye contact, “You know that, right?”

“What’s not GOOD for me, Benrey,” Gordon snarled, “Is going through withdrawal in the middle of the alien fucking apocalypse.” He lifted Benrey up a few inches by his tie, slammed him down back down on the floor as well as he could, the back of Benrey’s helmet thunking on the concrete. “What’s not GOOD for me, is having my FUCKING HAND CUT OFF, and not having any fucking painkiller.” He did it again. Benrey winced, not from physical pain. “YOU know THAT, right?”

“I didn’t...That wasn’t supposed to happen I- didn’t know they were going to do that. I wouldn’t have- Done it.” Benrey didn’t struggle like Gordon had in this position. He laid there and stared over Gordon’s shoulder, arms at odd angles.

“You fucking KNEW and you…” Gordon fell quiet. Benrey peeked back to him briefly, confused by his sudden silence. Gordon screwed his eyes shut, bared clenched teeth. He was probably going to punch him any second. Benrey was ready.

Instead, Gordon rolled off of Benrey, laying on the floor yet again. “Get the fuck away from me,” he muttered quietly.

Benrey stood up but wavered, looking down at the sweaty, trembling mess of a human below him.

“I don’t wanna fucking see you,” Gordon reiterated. Benrey felt it in his chest, unlike all the other times Gordon had expressed similar sentiments.

“Okay…” Benrey said, but he stood there a moment longer. Gordon put his extant hand over his eyes, apparently unable to look at him. Benrey thought about his Gordon Special Sweet Voice. But it was hard to conjure up when he just wanted to yell some red and blue into oblivion.

He shut his eyes and focused, manifested the notes he’d been so proud of, that weren’t good enough for Gordon. He spit a few at the man, watching them splash against his stubbornly closed mouth.

Benrey turned, bootheel squeaking on the floor, and left.

Benrey was clearly shit at plans. The last one would have to be the simplest.

Plan 4

  * Benrey keeps fucking up.
  * Gordon doesn't want Benrey around.
  * No Benrey.
  * No problem.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting you know, I've got the last few chapters planned out. It's gonna be a bit of a bumpy, sad ride to the end, but things WILL get better. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I don't respond to all comments, but I read and treasure every one. 
> 
> 1 kudo = 1 prayer for my damaged soul.


	8. Chapter 8

Gordon had waited until he could no longer hear Benrey’s footsteps, until there was nothing but the incessant hum of Black Mesa. Then he’d hungrily licked the Sweet Voice from his lips, wiped it off of his face with his hand and sucked it from his gloved fingers. He lay there trying not to think until it wore off or the others found him.

* * *

An hour later he had a gun in place of his missing hand. And he’d thought things couldn’t possibly get more absurd.

“Hey. Dr. … Darnold, right?”

The scientist pursed his lips, unimpressed that Gordon hadn’t learned his name with confidence.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Gordon glanced over at the others. Tommy, Bubby, and Dr. Coomer were busy firing their newly acquired weapons at the wall. He hadn’t seen Benrey since he’d told him to fuck off.

“My HEV suit’s malfunctioning, I was hoping if you could help me out.”

“That’s not really my area of expertise, Dr. Freeman. This is the potions department,” Darnold reminded him.

“I know, I know. But that’s actually perfect. The uh...morphine delivery system is broken, so whenever I get hurt, I’m kinda fucked. Do you have something... like that?”

“Oh! Are you injured?” Darnold looked him over.

“Well, no, not anymore,” Gordon looked down at the gun fused with his arm. It didn’t actually hurt at all. There was just the persistent all-over muscle ache from withdrawal. “But I kinda...get hurt a lot.”

“Perhaps you should be more careful. Black Mesa can be a real dangerous place,” Darnold suggested.

Gordon tried to put his fingertips to his forehead and was met with the still-warm barrel of the gun. It was going to be more difficult to get used to than having nothing there at all.

“Tell me about it. Look, you gotta have some morphine or something around here, right?” Gordon looked around, like he might spot a bottle with a big helpful label sitting out on the table.

Darnold crossed his arms, shaking his head, “That’s not the sort of potions I work with. I’m a flavor scientist, mostly, with the occasional foray into top secret DNA-altering concoctions.” He turned around to pick up a medkit from the shelf behind him. “I suggest you carry a few of these around. They’re quite effective at healing any injuries you might incur.”

“But…” Gordon whined internally, feeling suddenly isolated, unable to explain his need without coming out and saying it. The only person he’d really told outright was Benrey. He was starting not to like himself like this.

“Maybe you should work on getting the suit fixed if it’s so important,” Darnold said shortly before Dr. Coomer opened the door to be greeted by heavy fire from the U.S. Military.

* * *

"Tommy, Benrey said you showed him how to break the HEV suit?” Gordon tried to introduce the topic gently, but there was a strain to his voice.

“Oh...w-well, yes, that’s true,” Tommy said after blanching.

“Listen...Tommy, buddy,” Gordon put his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. The arm that happened to now have a giant fucking gun attached to it. “I get it, but uh...look. I’m not gonna make it through this if we don’t fix it. You gotta tell me what he did.”

“Um...I...I dunno if that’s a good idea Mr. Freeman,” Tommy looked pained, but not as pained as Gordon felt, surely.

“Tommy,” Gordon tightened his grip and Tommy winced, “I know you’re trying to help but it’s...it’s not helping, okay. When we get out of here, I’m gonna, you know, work on it. But it’s really not a good time for me to be sick right now. I'm not asking you to fix it. Just tell me what you told him."

“I’m not sure I can...uh…” Tommy looked very uncomfortable.

“It’s just been really difficult, with all the hand stuff. You have no idea how hard that was. And I know you didn’t know that was going to happen when you...went along with the whole... U.S. Military thing.” Tommy’s face cracked into the picture of devastation.

Gordon didn’t like himself right now, trying to coerce Tommy physically and mentally, guilt him into getting the morphine problem fixed. But he had to do it, he didn’t have a choice. He couldn't keep going like this, every turn hit him with nausea, every step squelched with the sweat pouring off of him and pooling in his HEV boots. Every minute was uncomfortable agony. The solution was right there in his suit. He just couldn't get at it.

“Are you talking about the morphine system?” Bubby piped up from the retinal scanner he was trying to set on fire. “I know what they did. I'll fix it, if it will stop your damn complaining and get us home faster.”

Gordon lit up, (as much as he could all things considered) unhanding Tommy and moving to Bubby instead.

“Yes. I promise, it’ll make things so much faster,” Gordon assured. He didn’t know if that was true. But it would certainly make things easier for him.

“It fucking better,” Bubby sneered, unlatching the backplate of the suit.

Gordon christened the now duct tape-augmented suit by falling off the nearest 15-foot OSHA-approved ledge, fracturing his shin as it absorbed the shock.

"God damnit," he heard Bubby gripe from somewhere above him. But it was near impossible to care, because when the suit announced “Morphine. Administered.” this time, warm comfort washed through him, real and all-consuming. It was all the better for the near 3 days he had been suffering. How he could have mistaken the placebo effect for this feeling was beyond him.

"I'll save you, Gordon!" Dr. Coomer announced as Gordon lay there with a vacant grin on his face. He vaguely wished he'd been nicer to Tommy.

* * *

He tried not to think about Benrey. It should have been easy now that Benrey had apparently taken his dismissal to heart for once. But he couldn't stop coming back to it, turning the problem over in his mind in alternating states of desperate craving and hazy euphoria.

He wanted to believe Benrey's sabotage had been purely about spite. That he'd cut off his supply and then gotten him fucked up worse than all the other injuries combined on purpose. But then why would he refuse to hurt Gordon when he asked? Why would he work on an alternative in the form of Sweet Voice when Gordon got hurt anyway?

It was fucked up and duplicitous, but it was difficult to see it as anything but a stupid, misguided attempt to help Gordon.

It made Gordon like himself even less, how angry he was with Benrey. He wanted to kill him, not for the first time. But the fact that he wanted to kill Benrey for doing something the other man had perceived as good made him feel like an immense asshole. And then what about everything else? He had said he hated hurting Gordon, but he’d done it anyway, again and again. He’d told Gordon he didn’t owe him anything. Then why do it? Just to be nice?

There were implications that Gordon’s brain circled around, but if he approached any nearer he risked falling off a cliff of confusion and emotion he couldn’t handle right now. He had enough on his plate with all the literal cliffs he was considering.

So he tried not to think about it. Tried to focus on getting out of here, getting his fix when he needed to. He might not have Benrey around to hurt him when he asked anymore, but like Darnold had said, Black Mesa offered plenty of opportunities to get injured.

* * *

Gordon made it up to Tommy, he hoped, by trying extra hard to rescue Sunkist. He rushed into the situation first, little regard for his own safety. But it wasn't entirely selfless.

He got closer to that weird French/U.S. Military guy than was strictly necessary. Close enough that the soldier was able to shove a combat knife up under the HEV suit’s chestplate, sliding it between Gordon’s ribs.

Gordon laughed in wild glee as the pain bloomed outward from the spot, a harsh wheeze through his punctured lung. Forzen disappeared shortly afterward, possibly disturbed by Gordon’s bizarre reaction. Gordon would be disturbed too if he could see himself.

“Gordon look, a medkit! We can use these to heal your injuries!” Coomer said, rushing forward with the kit outstretched in his hand.

“No…” Gordon pushed the kit away as he drifted down the wall to slump on the floor, “Just...guh- huh….wait...give me a...few muh... minutes.” He just wanted to relish the euphoria for a bit longer, even as blood flowed down his stomach, adding to the sweaty mess of his trapped body, as it leaked through the slice in the suit.

Tommy held his hand over the wound, quite distressed. Maybe Gordon hadn’t made it up to him after all. Tommy glanced reproachfully at Bubby, who made an angry growling noise and stomped off.

“Sorry...Tommy,” Gordon rasped, closing his eyes for just a few moments before they used the medkit. He hated himself for resenting them interrupting his stupor and quite possibly saving his life.

* * *

Things were accelerating to some kind of climax. Benrey still wasn’t around. The others didn’t seem too concerned. Like he was an inevitable cat, the kind that would always show up eventually, even if it wasn’t seen for days on end.

Gordon tried to be glad. Benrey was a weird annoyance, his absence a blessing. He couldn’t deal with the horrors of Black Mesa and his dependence as well as trying to work out whatever was going on between them. It was easier this way, to pretend he didn’t exist.

But there was something wanting. Falling off a ledge, getting stabbed by the U.S Military, it lacked what Gordon hated to call intimacy. He’d felt a certain sense of security when Benrey was the one doling out the damage. He could let his guard down, enjoy his high and know things were probably going to be peaceful for a while. Now he was focusing on staying alive whenever he got hurt, couldn’t take a minute to really enjoy it.

Gordon saw the skeleton a few times out of the corner of his eye, spotted a few security guards at a distance that might have been him. They must have been him, because the normal guards didn’t usually disappear as quickly when Gordon tried to get closer.

Otherwise, he didn’t see much of Benrey.

* * *

Until he saw a lot of Benrey. Huge and transformed in the endless capacity of Xen. Monstrosity laid bare, no more subtle hints of long tongue and sweet cum and high pain tolerance. Spouting nonsense on a level that affirmed real inhumanity.

It should have been easy for Gordon to shoot him, to take out his anger on this absolutely alien thing that had caused him so much inner and outer turmoil. But it wasn’t.

The passports had been destroyed, Benrey was vulnerable. Gordon could end this. But he hesitated, eyes watering from the strange lights, the strange smells, the stress, the sickness.

“What’sa matter, Feetman? Can’t perform?” Benrey mocked, lounging tall and impossible in the unsettling red muck that covered the cavern floor. His voice was still bored and uninvested despite the otherworldly timbre he had here and his impending demise. “Not in the mood? Need some performance enhancement to uhhh… enhance your performance?”

“Shut up!” Gordon shouted, aimed, still couldn’t shoot, couldn’t work his muscles to fire the gun. He couldn’t think. Or, more accurately, he couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t shut off his brain and just do what needed to be done.

“Hmmn.” Benrey rolled many eyes, sighed from several mouths. Even in this ghastly, mind-bending mutation, he was still extremely Benrey. “Gotta do everything myself again.” He grabbed hold of Gordon’s left arm this time, grasping him between gigantic clawed fingers.

 _End it._ Gordon thought, repulsed yet unable to look away from the teeth, the eyes, the incomprehensible shifting. _End me. I deserve it. You deserve it. I’m sorry._

“Please,” was all he managed to say aloud.

But Benrey wasn't so merciful. He plunged a surgically sharp nail into Gordon’s shoulder, curling under his collarbone until it felt like he might rip it out. Gordon screamed through teeth clenched so hard he feared his jaw would break. He hated how even now, in this most horrific of scenarios, the pain sparked an ember of excitement, anticipation for the coming relief.

“Morphine. Administered.” the HEV suit droned.

“You’re welcome,” Benrey muttered, letting Gordon go.

After that, shooting was much easier.

* * *

And then it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only regret is that in this AU Benrey doesn't get to tell everyone how good Gordon is at sucking.
> 
> ...yet.


	9. Chapter 9

But of course it wasn’t truly over.

There was cleanup to do. Bureaucracy to wade through. Retroactive NDAs to sign.

Gordon didn’t mind losing the gun. He much preferred having his hand back anyway. He had no idea how that had worked. Not that he was in the position or mood to question it anyway. But he nearly cried when they took the suit away from him. He hated it, never wanted to see it again, but at the same time it had offered so much relief and security. It had become an integral part of his life in those hellish weeks. He needed it.

He needed something to deal with the dependence. And he could ask for just about anything. They were being quite generous. Gordon had a feeling it was because he’d been so instrumental in the destruction of...the entity. If not, he might have been rewarded with a firing squad instead of enough money to never need to work again if he lived reasonably.

He could have asked for entry into a rehab clinic. Get the problem taken care of immediately. But...He wasn’t quite ready. The last few times he’d gotten the dose at Black Mesa had been so harrowing. He didn’t want to go from that to being sick for who knows how long, and then never have that feeling again.

So after he’d sworn secrecy, made sure he and his friends were safe, and agreed to the payout, he asked for a morphine prescription. To help with his hand. It didn’t hurt, against all expectations. But they didn’t know that. There was an ugly scar where it had been reattached through unknown means, so it was believable. He made it a condition of his silence. And in the grand scheme of things, it was hardly a big ask. So he got it.

* * *

He was going to do this scientifically. Titrate down the dosage. He’d feel the minimum amount of discomfort, and then, barely even noticing, he’d be off of it. He’d be fine. He could get back to his life, whatever the hell that was going to be after the existence-altering events of Black Mesa.

His experimental design didn’t take into account his willpower, however. He started out with what he believed was a similar dose to what the suit had given him. Being able to control the amount and when he got it, without having to break more than a little bit of skin to get it was incredible. There was some sick part of him that missed the pain. It had been such a large part of the experience that he’d grown used to it. Benrey had been a big part of it too. He tried not to think about Benrey. Whenever he did a wave of guilt rolled through him, and it wasn’t conducive to getting his life back on track.

But neither was the morphine. He was supposed to lower the dose. But he kept pushing it back. Next time. He’d take less next time. He would definitely start easing off it next time.

He had legitimate need for it too, sometimes. There was an occasional sort of phantom-phantom pain in his hand. The memory of absence would suddenly overwhelm him, and he was surprised to see the whole thing was still there and functioning. It made him feel like he wasn’t supposed to have it, like he was cheating somehow.

And it was a lot easier to think about things he didn’t want to think about when he was sober. Mostly Black Mesa stuff. Mostly Benrey stuff.

* * *

“Um...sorry guys. I completely forgot you were coming over.” Gordon said, pushing through the haze in his brain to do some semblance of cleanup for his guests. Or at least push the less savory items on his coffee table out of sight.

“That’s quite alright, it’s important to be comfortable in one’s space,” Dr. Coomer assured, standing in the entryway of Gordon’s modest tract home. He did a fair job of concealing his alarm at the state of the living room.

“Are you living in a frat house?” Bubby was less tactful. He used his foot to nudge a pizza box out of the way as he walked over to perch on the arm of the recliner, unwilling to move the stack of newspapers Gordon had been growing on the seat.

“Do you want us to help you clean a little?” Tommy asked. He ignored Bubby’s emphatic “No.” “I mean...it was definitely d- tough to get used to doing normal things again. S...Sunkist really helped get me back into a… regular routine.”

“I don’t think I should have a pet right now,” Gordon admitted, “And...no, thanks. I can take care of it. I just gotta get my ass in gear.” About a few things. “Let’s go out,” he said, suddenly seeing the dimly lit, grimy condition of his house through his friends’ eyes.

Gordon nibbled unenthusiastically at his slice of pizza. Bubby and Coomer were in a mostly good-natured argument about which prizes to buy with their collective tickets. Tommy was sitting next to him sipping from his plastic cup, quiet until he wasn’t.

Tommy cleared his throat and Gordon looked up. “I saw a few of these on your floor,” Tommy said, opening his hand up to reveal a bright orange needle cap, the sort that Gordon had become very familiar with.

Gordon felt his throat go dry, cheese sticking in his esophagus. “That...um…”

“It’s been a month, Mr. F- Gordon,” Tommy said, frowning, “You said you were going to work on it.”

“I…” Gordon felt shame bubbling up inside him, mad at himself for once again disappointing Tommy. “Yeah...it’s just been...really difficult. Getting back to normal. Like you said.”

Tommy started to close his hand again but Gordon grabbed the cap and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t want Tommy holding onto something like that.

“It’s just…” Tommy started, staring at the table and turning his hand over to run his fingers across it. “I wonder if maybe you’re making this part of your normal? And...is th- that what you want?”

Gordon felt sick, the pizza, the lights, the sounds, getting an intervention in the middle of Dave and Buster’s. He closed his eyes.

“No…” he said quietly. “I- I do want to quit. It’s...just really, really hard.” It was true. He didn’t like that this had become part of his routine outside Black Mesa. He didn’t want it to be the rest of his life. But he had a feeling it was going to be if he didn’t do something soon.

“Do you...need some help?” Tommy asked. He sounded like he meant it, but also like he was totally out of his depth, would have no idea how to help.

“No. I mean… yes. But...It’s not your problem, Tommy. I don’t want you to have to...” see Gordon at his worst, begging, bargaining, pressuring Tommy. He didn’t deserve that. “...deal with it. I’m going to...do something. Soon.”

“Okay...if you need anything. Let me know.”

Gordon nodded, feeling like shit. People wanted to help him. But he couldn't accept it. Benrey had wanted to help him. And Gordon had killed him.

"Tommy, do you ever think about..."

"Black Mesa?" Tommy looked at him curiously.

"No, kind of...Certain parts of Black Mesa." Benrey.

"Yes. All the time. Oh…” Tommy added quickly as Bubby and Coomer started back towards their table, crappy prizes in hand. “Don’t tell Bubby about...you know. I think he feels bad about fixing the suit.”

“Uh...oh, okay…” Gordon said, watching as Bubby approached and dumped an armful of small Sonic plushes, yoyos, and shot glasses onto the table. He felt even worse for inspiring guilt in the last person he would have expected, letting down yet another friend. He’d really fucked up.

He felt the itch building up. He wanted to get home and be alone so he could forget about this. And of course that made him feel worse still.

* * *

He was melting into the couch, nodding out in front of a muted nature documentary, the blue glow enhancing the unreal feeling of the late night. He gradually became aware of a figure standing in the periphery of his vision. He turned his head at what felt like one degree per hour to get a better look.

The figure was watching the TV, seemingly as hypnotized by the school of fish swimming and shifting in unison as Gordon had been. It was familiar in a way that had his stomach clenching. He closed his eyes, opened them again. It was still there.

“....Are you real?” Gordon asked after staring for an eternity. The figure startled, broken out of its trance, and turned to Gordon.

“Hmn? I fuckin’....guess so,” Benrey shrugged. He had to be real. Gordon couldn’t have imagined him wearing anything but the helmet and flak jacket. But Benrey was dressed in a baggy t-shirt, jeans, and an unzipped hoodie, the colors of which were impossible to determine in the ghostly cast of the monochromatic light.

“Oh...hey.” Gordon had a lot of questions. _How did you get into the house? How did you get into the world? Are you okay? Are you mad at me?_ He didn’t know if he was asking any of them aloud.

Benrey wasn’t answering either way. He was sitting next to him now. Gordon didn’t know if he’d teleported or he just hadn’t noticed him moving.

“Cool, your hand grew back,” Benrey said, holding up Gordon’s arm and tracing the pale scar tissue circling his wrist with a finger, “Didn’t know you guys could do that.”

“It didn’t grow...I mean...I dunno...yeah, I guess.” Gordon flexed his fingers, entwined them with Benrey’s, testing if he was solid. He was, his skin dry and cool. “Why’re you here?”

“Tommy told me you were fucking up.”

“You can... talk to Tommy?”

“Can’t you?” Benrey said, staring at their interlocked hands.

“Yes, but I meant… I’m fine.” Gordon lied.

“Seem kinda fucked up.” Benrey leaned forward, Gordon’s breath caught in his throat. But Benrey just used his fingers to hold Gordon’s eyelid open, check his constricted pupils.

“Maybe... So what?” Gordon said after finding his ability to speak again, though it still felt like moving his lips and tongue through jello.

"He said you wanted to stop fucking up." Benrey leaned back, glanced at the TV again.

"He didn' say it like that.”

"No. He said it a lot, y'know… Cuter."

"And you're gonna...what, help me get clean?" Gordon asked. The idea was laughable. Except that Benrey had been attempting to do just that even during the Resonance Cascade.

"Only if you want." Benrey said.

"...Why?"

Benrey was quiet for a moment, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Gordon half expected his image to fade away into nothing. To be alone. But then Benrey shrugged again. "Beats what I was doing before. "

"What were you doing before?"

"Nothing," Benrey said.

“Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” Benrey said.

It occurred to Gordon that this might be literal. He swallowed.

“M’sorry,” Gordon mumbled, laying his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes. Even if it was a dream, it was cathartic to be able to apologize to the ghost of Benrey.

“It’s cool.” Benrey said. “Had to do it or whatever. I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Messing with your suit. When you weren’t ready I guess.”

“It’s um...it’s okay. I get it.” Gordon was still grasping Benrey’s hand, but he had to look up to confirm he was actually there sitting next to him.

“Do you?” Benrey asked.

“I dunno.”

“Are you ready now?” Benrey tilted his head. “Or I can go away if you wanna fuck up forever.”

Gordon thought about it. The notion of finally buckling down and quitting was daunting. The notion of sending Benrey away again pulled against it, a very confusing tug-of-war. “I... want to be ready.”

“Guess that counts.” Benrey looked back at the TV. He must like fish.

“Benrey?”

“Huh?”

“Are you really here?”

“Yeah.” Benrey squeezed his hand as if to prove it.

“I’m sorry.” Gordon said again.

“Okay.”

* * *

Even so, Gordon broke a glass the next morning, dropping it in surprise when he found Benrey on the couch, still watching the muted television.

“Yo, what the hell?” Benrey asked, glancing at the broken glass littering the floor.

“I thought... I didn’t know… uh…” Gordon knelt down, fumbling to gather the glass. “Fff-” Blood welled up around a shard embedded in his right palm.

“Still doing that shit too?” Benrey said, suddenly standing right there, looking down at him. Black jeans, navy shirt, grey hoodie. He was really here. 

“No...it was an accident. You fuckin’... scared me.”

“I’m just sittin’ here bro.” Benrey took hold of Gordon’s hand, bringing it up to inspect the wound. He plucked the piece of glass out of Gordon’s hand and ate it.

“I...I’m gonna go clean this,” Gordon said, feeling dizzy as he stood. It was all so surreal, but he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

“Benrey, did you… did you do something with my morphine?” Gordon called from the bathroom, moving bottles around in the medicine cabinet in a growing state of panic.

“Yeah,” Benrey shouted back from the living room, as casually as if Gordon had asked if he’d changed the laundry.

“W-what the fuck did you do!?” Gordon yelled.

“Hid it.” Benrey said, now leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t need it for a tiny baby cut like that do you?”

“That’s not… Benrey you can’t do that! Give it back.” Gordon grabbed hold of Benrey’s shirt, getting blood on it.

“Nah, you said you wanted to stop, remember?” Benrey tsked, calm despite Gordon’s growing discomposure.

“That was...I...I was high when I said that,” Gordon argued, shaking Benrey slightly. His stomach churned even though it was nowhere near time to get sick.

“Yeah?” Benrey said, like he didn't see the connection, “You wanna quit don’t you?” Of course Benrey wouldn't know how easy it was for Gordon to say that when he wasn't suffering. To make all kinds of promises.

“Yes but…” He needed one last hit. That was all. He needed to know it was the last one he’d ever get. “Fuck…” Gordon let Benrey go and leaned on the counter, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d told himself last night was the last one, hadn’t he? He’d done that with almost every dose since he left Black Mesa.

“You just gonna put your blood everywhere, idiot?” Benrey said quietly. He took Gordon’s hand again and put it under the faucet, running warm water over the wound. Gordon leaned against him, needing to brace himself on something solid.

“Okay.” He nodded after a while.

“Huh?” Benrey said, taping up his messy bandage-work.

“I’ll quit,” Gordon said, wiping his eyes on the gauze on the back of his hand.

“Cool.” Benrey smiled a little, catching Gordon off guard.

He was going to hate it. He was probably going to hate Benrey. “I’m sorry,” he said preemptively.

“Better be. I only got the one shirt,” Benrey said, looking in the mirror at the spot of blood staining his dark blue shirt.

“We can go get you some new ones.”

“Oh, um...nah. You’re not going anywhere.” Benrey put an arm around Gordon’s shoulder.

“What?”

“You’re uh…” Benrey seemed to waver between nervous and assertive. He tightened his hold on Gordon. “You’re in custody, man. House arrest. Lockdown.”

“B-but…” Fresh dread poured into Gordon. “I gotta get food.”

“You can get it delivered.”

“Yeah but… I...I have to go to w-” No. He didn’t have a job. He’d been spending his days holed up in his house, wasting time, taking morphine. He changed tack. “I need to see my friends.” Not like he had any anymore, aside from The Science Team. He shifted in Benrey’s grasp, found it quite strong.

“They can come here. Anyway, you’re kinda shitty to your friends when you’re sick.” Benrey pointed out. That was also true. Gordon grit his teeth. He had to do this. He had to.

“I’m gonna be shitty to you,” he warned.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Benrey replied. He let Gordon go to clean up the mess of bandages, tape, and blood he’d made. Gordon thought about slipping out, running for the front door. He stayed where he was.

“Sorry.”

“Stop fuckin’ sayin' that.” Benrey left Gordon in the bathroom. Gordon could hear the clinking of glass as Benrey picked up the mess on the living room floor. He wondered if he was eating that too.

Gordon briefly glanced at himself in the mirror. He didn’t like the pale, thin countenance he’d taken on lately. There were so many aspects of himself he didn’t like now, so much about him not to like. And yet here was Benrey, against all odds and logic, trying to help him again.

He hadn’t liked how things had ended last time Benrey tried to help and he'd rejected it. Now he had another chance.

“Okay.” he said to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a minor content warning for this chapter. I don't go into detail, but there's some more explicit mention of vomit and stuff. Check end notes for specifics.

Benrey was an idiot. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Plan 4 had gone as well as it could have. He’d removed himself from the situation, Freeman was no longer his problem, and vice versa.

He should be content to just chill in the void for a scientifically indescribable amount of time. He could manifest as many hands and dicks in here as he could imagine, jack off for eternity in a nanosecond. He’d forget about Gordon eventually, in an hour or a century.

But Tommy kept visiting, and Benrey was an idiot, so he couldn’t help but ask.

“How’s uh...what-his-name?” Benrey tried at nonchalance.

“Um…”

“The mean guy…”

“Uhh…” Tommy stalled.

Benrey sighed. “Freeman.”

“I know. I’m just...not sure you really want me to tell you.”

“That bad huh?” Benrey scuffed an intangible foot against the non-existent ground. He shouldn’t. It was supposed to be over, out of his hands. “Tell me.”

If nothing else, it was good to let Tommy vent.

“You know it’s uhh...not your responsibility,” Benrey said, repeating Tommy’s advice back to him.

“You’re right. B-but it's like... watching someone sinking in quicksand. I still don’t like seeing it. Especially when he wants to get better.”

“Oh, he wants to get better now?” Benrey said, hope springing pathetic and unkillable in his helplessly doomed being.

“Yes, but...I guess he doesn’t know how.”

“I had a pretty good idea.”

“Benrey…”

“Yeah yeah, I know...”

“He...did sort of mention you.”

“Psh. No, he didn’t.”

“Not specifically. But I do th-...think he feels bad.”

“Good.”

“And... I think he misses you a little bit.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“I think so.”

“Good…” Benrey reminded himself what a great time he was having here, how uncomplicated everything was. “You said you could talk to your dad?” he asked anyway, because he was hopeless. “About getting me a vacay from the void?”

“Benrey, it’s not…”

“Not my responsibility, I know. But maybe it’s my hobby.” Getting his emotional shit wrecked over and over by the dumbest, meanest fucking nerd. A hobby for idiot losers. “I just wanna check. Take a lil’ peek.” See him again. Just one more time.

Tommy agreed. He stressed that it was because he didn’t like his friend being trapped in infinite nothing. But Benrey suspected he also hoped Benrey might be able to help Gordon.

And now here he was, eternal fucking idiot, in Gordon’s house, where he slept and ate and pissed and did other human stuff, picking glass up off the floor like some kind of sexy maid. Because he was a fucking idiot.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Gordon’s resolve didn’t take long to weaken. By that evening he was fidgeting, restless, skin crawling and stomach cramping. He was already regretting making this commitment.

Benrey had settled into living on his couch, taking over the PS3. Gordon had discreetly searched the house under the guise of cleaning, trying to figure out where Benrey had hidden the morphine. He wasn’t going to use it. He just wanted to know where it was.

But for all he knew Benrey had hidden it in another dimension. It filled Gordon with a sense of dread, knowing he didn’t have access. Like the few times he’d been outside of the HEV suit, feeling like he was adrift in space, had to scrabble back to it for a sense of security.

Benrey hardly seemed aware of what was going on outside his game of Battlefield, muttering into the headset to fuck-knows-who. Some captor he was turning out to be. Couldn’t even pay attention when Gordon was devising an escape plan. Gordon would slip out the back door, go down to the pharmacy, get a vial and keep it in his truck's glove box. Just in case.

But as soon as he pulled the door open a few inches it slammed back. A thrill of anticipation went down Gordon’s spine as he felt Benrey’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Where you goin’, friend?” Benrey asked, palm flat on the door, keeping it closed. Gordon knew there was no point trying to wrench it open when Benrey was against it.

Gordon licked his lips, staring at his hand on the doorknob. “Just going out for some fresh air,” he said, guilt pooling into his already upset stomach.

Benrey leaned over to open the small window behind the kitchen sink, letting in the cool desert night breeze, “There’s some air. Suck it up.”

Gordon’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, great,” he said flatly.

“You got it, man,” Benrey replied, then after a beat, “Need anything else?”

“No,” Gordon said stubbornly.

“‘Kay.” And then the weight of Benrey’s presence was gone. Gordon turned to see Benrey back on the couch, like nothing had happened. Gordon breathed, finding he actually did appreciate the open window.

* * *

Things got worse. Gordon tried to sleep, sweat through his clothes and his sheets, soaked his mattress. Nausea was settling in, existence was uncomfortable.

“Hey...um…” Gordon sat down next to Benrey after his third shower of the day.

“Huh?” Benrey tossed the controller down to look at him. Gordon thought he might gripe about having to stop his game, but Gordon watched his character get sniped with no reaction from Benrey.

“Uh…” Gordon looked down at his hands, twisting them together in sweaty knots. ”Can you still do...I mean. I dunno what kinda alien stuff you can do now. Like… Sweet Voice.”

A corner of Benrey’s mouth quirked up. “All you gotta do is ask, Gordo,” he said.

Gordon felt his face heat up, clashing with the overall clammy sensation. He’d had no problem asking, nay, demanding it at Black Mesa. But he had been in a lot of pain at the time. He’d also been a selfish asshole. Not that much had changed. “Can I...get some Sweet Voice?” he finally said.

“Yup.” Benrey leaned in. “Don’t even have to say ‘please’ this time,” he murmured, putting his thumb on Gordon’s chin to lever his mouth open. Gordon’s stomach rolled over slowly for reasons that had nothing to do with the withdrawal. Benrey got so close but didn’t make contact. Gordon thought about closing the gap but didn’t. He was so sweaty, was probably going to throw up any minute.

Still, the feeling of Benrey right up against him, filling his mouth with those sweet, soothing orbs, brought back a vivid memory of the first time he’d done it. And the heated, frantic rutting they’d engaged in directly following it. Had that really happened? It seemed a lifetime ago.

Gordon had been sitting there with his eyes closed for a while after Benrey had stopped. “Thank you,” he said, his aching muscles unwinding, prickling skin settling down.

“Hmn. First time you’ve said that to me,” Benrey said, picking up his controller again.

“What?” Gordon frowned, fighting the fog the Sweet Voice had tinted his brain with. “No that... can’t be right…” Had he really not thanked Benrey in all that time?

“Show me the chatlogs,” Benrey said, back in his game.

“I...fuck…” Gordon slipped his thumb and fingertips under his glasses to rub at his eyes. He played back those desperate weeks, all the confusing, painful, euphoric encounters he’d had with Benrey. He cringed inwardly as he thought of all the begging, bullying, and bargaining he’d done. He’d showed his appreciation in other ways, of course, but he’d tried to think of it as purely transactional at the time. And as far as he could remember, Benrey was right. He had never actually said thank you for all the favors Benrey had done him. God, he was an asshole.

“I’m sorry,” he said, nausea welling up despite the Sweet Voice.

“I know, shut up.” Benrey knocked his knee against Gordon’s in admonishment.

“I think… I think I’m gonna go throw up.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Uh...thanks.” Gordon said again, feeling like he needed to make up for the lost time.

It didn’t stop him from having to puke, but the Sweet Voice made it less unpleasant, and Gordon really did appreciate it. He also appreciated the glass of water that was waiting for him on the bathroom counter when he was done.

* * *

Even with regular applications of Sweet Voice, things got worse. By the fourth day, he was spending most of his time in the bathroom. Sweating, puking, shitting. It was like everything in his body wanted out, even tears and snot. Gordon could see the appeal, he wanted out too.

“Benrey, c’mon. Please, I can’t do it anymore.” Gordon crawled from where he’d been draped over the toilet to Benrey, who was perched on the bathroom counter. He’d taken to keeping close to Gordon for all but the most repellent of activities. It was unclear whether it was to make sure he didn't die of dehydration or if he just didn't trust Gordon to not try and sneak out again.

Gordon wrapped his hands around Benrey’s black-socked ankle, kneading little circles into the muscle. “Just a little bit. I...really need it. I feel like I’m dying. Please.”

“You can do it. You’ll be fine,” Benrey said, glancing up from the PSP that was now on him at all times. He held up a bottle of water to Gordon’s mouth. Gordon dutifully drank from it, rinsing out the bitter taste before replying.

“No, I can’t. No, I won’t. Let’s go back to how we used to do it. I’ll make you come. And you don’t have to hurt me. That’s the part you didn’t like, right? Just give me back the morphine. I’m serious.”

“Would still be hurting you.” Benrey replied, flexing his foot in Gordon’s grasp, “In a different way.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and put his chin on Benrey’s thigh. “You can fuck me,” he said, looking up at the other man with all the earnest pleading he could muster. He’d been saving this. Benrey had never taken the bait, but it always seemed to trip him up, give him pause.

Benrey had been trying to adjust Gordon’s skewed glasses and he did pause, leaving them more crooked than before. “You keep saying that.” He put a hand through Gordon’s hair, “Startin’ to think you want it more than I do.” Gordon shuddered at the nails on his scalp. “Nah. I'm not gonna fuck you like this.”

Disappointment flooded through Gordon, another wave of nausea close on its heels. He couldn't blame Benrey for being put off. He was absolutely disgusting right now.

“I...I know, I’m gross,” Gordon said, hating how his eyes seemed to water at the slightest bit of upset he felt. And how easy it was to get upset. “But afterwards, I’ll feel better and take a shower and all that. Then you can do whatever you want.”

“Not what I meant.” Benrey growled. He fisted his hand at the back of Gordon’s head, tilting his face up. Gordon winced, the tension against his scalp sending a frisson down the back of his neck. Benrey leaned down and kissed his vomit-soured mouth, hard and serious. Gordon squirmed, repulsed for Benrey, but the other man held firm. There was no Sweet Voice to obfuscate his purpose, just soft lips pressing against the rough cracked surface of Gordon’s.

Gordon gasped as Benrey pulled back, totally blindsided. “I don’t wanna fuck you if you’re not here with me," Benrey said, low and fierce. The intensity in his eyes had Gordon pinned like an insect on a corkboard. “I don’t wanna fuck you unless I’m the only thing you can think about.”

Gordon stared back, brain short-circuiting.

Then Benrey sat back up, engaged once more with his PSP. “So no. No morphine for Freeman.”

That switch, the casual refusal after...that, had pulled the rug out from Gordon’s already unsteady stance. When he found his figurative footing, his blood was boiling.

“Fuck you,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Don’t you have any fucking empathy?”

“Guess not.” Benrey didn’t look up. His face was slightly flushed but that was not what was important right now.

“STOP LOOKING AT THE GODDAMN GAME, YOU ALIEN FUCK!” Gordon shouted, barely-there composure snapping. He snatched the PSP out of Benrey’s hands, and without thinking too hard about it, slammed it against the corner of the counter.

There was a cracking sound. Gordon turned the PSP over, regret spreading through him just like the spidery fissures issuing from the impact point in the middle of the screen. Black oozed across the display, obscuring the better part of Syphon Filter®: Logan’s Shadow.

Benrey gingerly pulled the PSP out of Gordon’s shaking fingers. “Feel better?” he asked mildly, dropping it in the sink.

“No,” Gordon admitted. In fact, he felt like a complete bastard. He still couldn’t help but add, “You know what would make me feel better.”

“Not happening," Benrey said, watching Gordon now that he didn’t have his game to look at. "Couldn’t give it to you if I wanted to. I smashed those bottles like an innocent PSP. First day I got here."

Rage threatened to pour out of Gordon again. But so did the nausea, so he turned to spit his bile into the toilet bowl rather than at Benrey.

He didn’t have the energy to brush the other man off when he felt a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades.

* * *

“Why're you still here?” Gordon asked a day later. He lay in the bathtub, letting cool shower water hit his feverish skin.

“Huh?” Benrey was sitting on the bathmat next to the tub, coaxing Gordon to take sips of Powerade every few minutes. Gordon had seen the PSP, mysteriously fixed or replaced, but Benrey tended to keep it out of sight when he was within reach of Gordon. “Makin’ sure you don’t drown.”

“I...I’m so shitty. And gross and. The worst. God. Why don't you go...go hang out with Tommy or something? I’m sure he misses you... And he’d be fucking nice to you at least.... Why are you still here?” Gordon shook, a full-body tremor as his system suddenly decided it was too cold.

“‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ idiot,” Benrey mumbled, recognizing Gordon’s discomfort and reaching over to adjust the temperature knobs until the water ran warm and Gordon stopped shivering.

“I’m not worth it.” Gordon shut his eyes. _I don’t deserve it. You should have killed me._ Every casual act of kindness from Benrey sent self-loathing ricocheting through his wrung-out husk of self.

“Maybe not. But…” He felt Benrey’s hand on his shoulder, fingers running over the scar where Benrey’s monstrous claw had pierced him. Gordon shuddered again as it moved across his sternum to the circle of keloid tissue on his right collarbone.

“But what?” Gordon asked, wanting, maybe for the first time, to understand. He could predict the next move, Benrey’s fingers slid a few inches to the right, where he’d twisted the knife into Gordon’s other shoulder.

“But I’m idiot. Can’t stay away.” Benrey’s hand ghosted over the place he’d snapped Gordon’s forearm, came to rest on top of Gordon’s hand where it was hanging over the edge of the bathtub, rubbing gently at the knuckle of his last finger. Gordon wasn’t sure if this was exactly the same finger he’d broken, mechanics of the hand replacement escaping him. Still, the gesture didn't lose any gravity.

Gordon opened his eyes, looking at Benrey through water-specked glasses, but it was like he was seeing him clearly now more than ever. “I’m s-” he started, then shut his mouth.

“Nah, go ahead,” Benrey said. Gordon couldn't tell if Benrey was smiling or grimacing, the droplets on his lenses distorting the image.

“Sorry,” Gordon said, hooking his pinky finger around Benrey’s. Then, “Thank you.”

* * *

Things were getting better. It had been nearly a week since Benrey had shown up, since Gordon had his last dose. Gordon had imagined his brain fried, pleasure receptors burned out, unable to accept anything but morphine to feel happiness. But things were starting to look up, a vague sense of optimism crawling out through the rubble of his destroyed psyche.

He still would have really liked some morphine, but the worst of the withdrawal seemed to be tapering off. He could keep more than just thin soup and crackers down and inside for a normal amount of time.

He was also finding himself capable of being interested in things other than morphine, his mind slowly emerging from its cage of craving. Benrey had allowed him to take a short, supervised walk, and he could actually register and appreciate things around him; a nice tree or a weird bug.

He remembered that he liked examining things, observing the world outside his inner needs. In fact, he had a theory he’d been working on since his strange conversation with Benrey in the bathtub, one that he wanted to test out.

“Benrey,” Gordon began once he’d worked up the nerve, sliding onto the couch next to him.

“That’s me.”

“I uh...was wondering if I could...get you off.” Benrey’s focus on the game, his lack of complete attention on Gordon, made it a little easier to get it out. Still, nervous anticipation dropped like a heavy weight in his stomach. It was much more difficult to ask when he didn’t have the gnawing chemical need to drive him to do anything required to get what he wanted.

Benrey’s hands slipped over the controller buttons. His character did a wholly unnecessary forward roll, but otherwise he wasn’t phased. “Dunno why you’re still tryin’ that. It’s not gonna work.”

“I’m not trying anything,” Gordon said, aware that he didn’t have the best track record, that he had to prove himself.

“You’re always trying to get something. Sneaky little scheme boy.”

“I’m trying t-” The words caught in Gordon’s throat. His face was burning, embarrassment and terror that he’d misjudged the situation and was making a further ass of himself. “To get you to fff-...feel good.”

Benrey’s character fell off a cliff. He peered at Gordon suspiciously. “Why? You’re not getting morphine. Sweet Voice and uh…. Powerade is free. Already said you don’t owe me anything.” Benrey reloaded the game, turned back to screen. “No matter whatever the stupid Quickbooks spreadsheet shit in your fucked brain says.”

“I know I don’t owe you. I just want to do it,” Gordon said, trying for defiance to bolster his confidence.

Benrey’s character immediately fell off the same cliff. Gordon watched Benrey’s throat bob as he swallowed. Saw the clench of his fist around the fabric of his jeans. Gordon had seen these signs of hesitant, desirous uncertainty in Benrey before. He’d used it as leverage at the time, to dig in and pry, get what he wanted from him. But now…

Gordon paid close attention to the way Benrey wavered on the decision. He also paid attention to his own roil of emotions. How tense and coiled his stomach was. How nervous he was that Benrey might say no, and how if he did say no, there was no morphine on the line. And how he still very much wanted him to say yes.

Benrey looked down at the controller for a bit. “Fuckin’ idiot…” he muttered, nearly inaudible. Then, louder, “What’re you gonna do? Don’t puke on my dick, please.”

Gordon snorted and shook his head, “No, I’m not gonna risk that yet. Just, y’know, hand stuff.” He wiggled his fingers obscenely.

That seemed to break the tension, and Benrey let the controller clatter onto the coffee table. “Okay...Yeah. Jerk away.”

Gordon registered the excited jolt in his brain, but he couldn’t get too bogged down in self observation. He was also very interested in observing Benrey. He scooted over, pressing his shoulder against the other man's. He listened intently to the shuddering exhale Benrey let go as he started undoing his jeans.

“Very convenient, the... ‘not human thing,’” Gordon commented, feeling Benrey’s once again almost instantly stiff erection.

Benrey mumbled something Gordon can’t make out.

“What was that?”

“I lied,” Benrey said, face flushing to a rather attractive shade. He looked up at the ceiling. “It’s uh...kinda more of a... you thing.”

“Oh.” Gordon said quietly, struggling with the meaning of the confession. It was A Lot, so he focused on getting Benrey’s cock out, trying to concentrate on the bare logistics until he could get ahold of himself.

It really was a nice dick. Thick, rock-hard and already leaking. Gordon remembered to spit in his hand this time before he wrapped it around the base. “Let me know if anything feels uh...off. I haven’t done this sorta thing since I got my hand back.”

“S-...seems fine to me,” Benrey replied, breath catching as Gordon started to pump his hand, slow and steady.

Gordon watched every minute reaction from the other man with heightening fascination. Benrey’s eyelashes fluttered, his nails dug into his thighs, his eyes stared down at Gordon’s hand on him. His cock, silky smooth under Gordon’s palm, twitched and pulsed, throbbed against him, like the flesh itself was begging for more.

“Little….lil’ faster? Please?” Benrey breathed, the pitch of his voice shifting up at the end. It was, quite frankly, adorable.

Had it always been like this? Had Gordon’s interest, even affection, been there since the first time, dormant under the all-consuming weight of his addiction? Or had the dependence blocked any sort of feelings from getting to him in the first place? Gordon supposed it didn’t matter in the grand scheme. All he could do now was see where it took him.

“Like this?” Gordon asked, surprised by the huskiness of his own voice. He sped up his rhythm, twisting his fist every other stroke, pausing to play with the foreskin, rolling it over the tip and back off again. He had enough hands to caress the other man’s balls now. He cupped them in his left hand, massaged them, appreciated their heft, their pillowy texture, appreciated how Benrey gasped when he squeezed a little harder.

“Guh...fff...yea- ahhh” Benrey babbled. He tried to close his mouth, couldn’t keep it shut, had to pant, swiped that long tongue over his lips, made them shine.

Gordon wanted to kiss him. No Sweet Voice. No excuses. He _had_ brushed his teeth after the last time he’d been sick...

“Benrey, can I-” he started.

“A-anything,” Benrey replied instantly. It felt familiar, but Gordon couldn’t pinpoint why. He moved closer, putting a knee between Benrey’s legs so he could get a good angle, and pressed their lips together.

He wished he’d put on some lip balm, but he honestly hadn’t expected to go this far, to be swept away to this point. Benrey didn’t mind. He moaned and immediately deepened the kiss, his alien tongue slipping into Gordon’s mouth. Gordon realized he’d missed it, that bizarre, exhilarating feeling of Benrey exploring the inside of him.

So maybe the feelings had been there all along.

He still didn’t have enough hands. He had to make a sacrifice, and moved his hand from Benrey’s balls to rake fingers through his hair, marvelling at the thick softness against his skin. Benrey held his face with a hand on either side of his jaw, nails digging in just slightly below his ears. He was hungry for it, kissing him hard like it might be the last time he ever got such a treat. With the way Gordon had been acting, he couldn’t fault Benrey for assuming that.

He could feel a change in Benrey’s body. His pulse thudding faster, his cock twitching harder. As much as he enjoyed kissing Benrey, Gordon pulled away, wanting to watch him come. Benrey made a stuttered noise of disappointment, and Gordon gave what he hoped was a reassuring hum.

He tightened his grip on Benrey, upped his pace again. The hand in Benrey’s hair slid down to his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Fffuck Gordon- I... I’m c-...umming,” Benrey gasped, fought to keep his eyes open, gripping Gordon’s shoulders almost painfully as he spilled into Gordon’s palm. Gordon watched his eyebrows furrow and mouth fall slack, revelling in the long, low groan issuing from deep in Benrey’s core. The vibration reverberating through his sternum and into Gordon’s palm had Gordon breathless.

Benrey was catching his breath too, slumped against the back of the couch and staring down at his softening cock and Gordon’s messy hand with something like disbelief.

“I could…” Benrey gestured to Gordon’s crotch. Gordon ached, but shook his head.

“That’s okay. I’m still trying to...you know, conserve fluids.” Speaking of which, he recalled the flavor of Benrey’s cum. At the time it was only a passing oddity, a fleeting distraction on the road to getting high.

He brought his hand to his mouth and licked at the puddle of pale blue. It tasted how it looked, lightly sweet and Blue.

“Damn, Gordon… You t- tryin’a kill me all over again? Double Kill?” The look Benrey was giving him was utterly devoted, thrilling, and quite familiar.

Gordon recalled all those looks he’d ignored, written off, or used to his advantage. All the little gestures of care, the splint, the warmth, the shower, the softness, the Sweet Voice, the devotion and patience that Gordon had taken for granted, resented or discounted. It was so obvious, and he simply hadn’t wanted or been able to notice.

“Oh...oh god” He choked, memories and emotions hitting him hard and fast like a series of ego-shattering trucks. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” Gordon said, tears coming easy as anything. So much for conserving fluids. The experiment had been a complete and devastating success.

“Huh? No, I was just j/k-ing man, it’s uh...it’s okay. It was really good.” Benrey frowned, plainly baffled as to what was causing Gordon so much grief.

“No. I mean...I…I’m really sorry for everything, Benrey. I...” But Gordon couldn’t put voice to it. All he could do was weep and hope to hell he had the ability to make it up to him.

“Man you gotta chill out. And stop saying that,” Benrey said, shaky and confused. He pulled at Gordon gently, just a suggestion. Gordon took it, pressed hard against the other man and sobbed into his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Gordon said instead, lips muffled against Benrey’s rapidly dampening shirt. Benrey’s arms came up to circle around him, solid and real and good.

He cried so hard that he had to throw up again. But it was the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Benrey kisses Gordon after he's recently vomited. He's trying to demonstrate that he doesn't care how gross Gordon is. 
> 
> Special thanks to additional betas Masque and eggnog for this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

The heavy metal doors slam shut behind Gordon, and he breathes in the fresh evening air. It’s nice to smell something other than the pervasive stench of high school gym mats. He was one of the last to leave, so the parking lot is nearly empty as he heads towards his pick-up truck, keys jingling. Benrey’s silhouette is right where he left him in the passenger seat.

Gordon huffs, still ambivalent about Benrey accompanying him. He’s not a prisoner (anymore). He doesn’t need to be watched every minute. It's to not like the second he doesn't have eyes on him he's going to sneak off into an alley and shoot up.

And yet, he can’t deny that if he’d driven here alone, he might well have chickened out. He could easily see himself pulling into the lot, watching people filter into the building, and then turning around, finding a bar or coffee shop to hide in for an hour. Having Benrey there to hold him accountable isn't the worst thing in the world. 

“How was it?” Benrey asks, switching off the PSP and slipping it into his hoodie.

“I dunno...weird,” Gordon sighs. He slots the key into the ignition but doesn’t turn it yet, “Like...my situation was um...really, _really_ different from everyone else. But...we all kind of... ended up in the same place. So it was...good?” Gordon leans back against the seat and shakes his head, too full of vulnerable confusion to give a complete review. “I dunno.” 

“Hey that’s fine, I don’t need the uhhh...the VOD, bro. It’s just cool you did it, yeah?” Benrey grips his shoulder, and Gordon is anchored.

Gordon nods and smiles a little, “Yeah... Oh, here.” He hands Benrey a chocolate-frosted donut he’d wrapped in a few napkins, “They had donuts.” 

“Yooo, sweet.” Benrey takes it and bites into it, napkin and all.

“N-no, don't eat th-” 

“Wha?” Benrey says through a mouthful of pastry and paper. “‘S’good.” He takes another huge bite, just to defy Gordon. "Thhkss."

Gordon laughs, and it feels wonderful. The tension of spending an hour in a room full of emotional strangers is eased somewhat.

He starts the truck and they head home.

Gordon clears his throat when they're a few blocks from the house, unable to wait. He doesn't want to give Benrey the chance to get sucked into Haze multiplayer again before he can ask. "So uh…are we still on for...the um, other thing?"

Gordon watches Benrey cock his head out of the corner of his eye. "What?" Benrey asks, “Bubby’s uh… surprise birthday deal? Man, he’s gonna hate that.”

"No...the other, other thing… Y-you know." Gordon slows down, stares hard at the road, not wanting to crash in a fit of suicidal embarrassment, "You said if I went to a meeting we could…you would…" His mouth goes dry. 

"Huh? What're you talking about?" Benrey asks again, curious, like Gordon is asking if he'd heard some recent game announcement instead of clearly trying to spill out something highly awkward.

Gordon grunts in mortified frustration. "You said..." His face grows hot, fingers tingling with apprehension. "That you would f-...uhh…" If only he could be as brazenly forward now as he had been when he was willing to do and say anything to get morphine.

Before he can fumble the words any further, Benrey leans over to purr into his ear. "You think I'd forget about how much I wanna fuck you? Not a chance, idiot." It's very good that Gordon has already parked in the driveway. 

"You bastard," Gordon grumbles. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel, vexation and arousal mingling while Benrey cackles.

It's a peculiar inversion. Up until just a couple of weeks ago, Gordon was offering his body for the chance to get high. Now he's trying to stay clean with the promise that Benrey will fuck him if he does well. This is by no means the only reason he's doing it, but it's a powerful incentive, a big factor in why he’s working on it as hard as he is.

“When?” Berney asks once they’re inside. He’s hovering over Gordon’s left shoulder while he locks the front door.

“Uh... whenever? It can wait if you’ve got game shit to take care of.” Gordon tries to sound like he could take it or leave it. Like he’s not already half hard.

“Now’s good. My schedule’s wide open clear,” Benrey says, breathing against the back of his neck. 

“You don’t have a schedule.” Gordon feels Benrey’s tongue tracing the shell of his ear, hot wetness sending electricity down his spine. They’ve been cautiously intimate over the past few weeks, and Gordon is well aware of what that tongue can do. “Yes. Now is good.” 

This too, is a bit of a reversal. Gordon had generally been the one to initiate in the past, pressuring Benrey into their bargains. And as part of the bargain, he’d kept the focus on Benrey, his own pleasure coming from the HEV suit. Now that they’ve established something like actual communication, Benrey eats him up like he’s starving.

He’d seen bits of that desire here and there, but he hadn’t indulged it. Now that Gordon allows it, welcomes it, Benrey shows the full breadth of his reverence. He worships Gordon’s cock with that strong, alien tongue, wrapping it around him and doing things no human could possibly achieve.

“Ah...fff- shit, Benrey that...like that,” Gordon knocks his glasses askew as he covers his face with one hand, the other tangled in Benrey’s hair. He lays on the bed, Benrey crouched between his legs, doing his damndest to please. The swirl of tongue on his shaft, the suck of lips on the head, and the two fingers curled into his ass are more than enough to get Gordon off, but he made a promise to Benrey, to himself.

“Okay...Let’s go, man, I-...I’m ready.” Gordon says, mentally preparing himself. It’s been a while.

The warmth around and in him disappears, and Gordon looks up to find Benrey staring at him, the infinite depth of his black eyes both penetrating and pulling him in.

"Are you here?" Benrey asks. 

"Huh?" Gordon is confused, but after a moment it clicks and he nods.

"Y-yeah. Yes. I'm with you."

Benrey’s smile is always strange, but Gordon is getting used to it. Right now it's also radiant, irresistible. Gordon kisses it, opens it with his tongue. Benrey opens him, pushing in, filling him, pressing into his core.

Gordon had gotten used to thinking of pain as an unfortunate means to an end. Even when he'd started to like it, it was just a conditioned signal that he was about to get his fix. But now he recognizes it as part of everything happening. It's proof that he's living, feeling. That he's here. That Benrey is here.

It helps that Benrey is touching any part of him he can reach, lighting his sensitive skin up to temper the discomfort. That he's slow despite the tremors Gordon can feel along his body, aching to pound into Gordon with everything he has. 

"Guh- Benrey…" he gasps as he feels Benrey's cock throb, the tiniest of movement sending ripples of sensation through him. It's not just pain or pleasure, not just good or bad. It's Benrey, and it's transcendent. 

"Mn?" Benrey opens his eyes. The push and suck of their darkness are much stronger when he’s so close. 

"Are _you_ here?" Gordon teases. He presses back against Benrey. " _Move_."

"Fff...thank you." Benrey says, beginning to rock in and out of him, "Thankyou _thankyou_." Gordon would laugh if he could do anything but gasp and choke out surprised moans. 

Yes. He is here. He may still pine for morphine during his normal life, a continual itch in the back of his brain. But right now it’s the furthest thing from his mind. There is only Benrey, filling him up completely, stroking him inside and out. Sucking at his collarbone, scraping teeth along his throat, squeezing his hips, holding and caressing him, all the while increasing the power and pace of his fucking. 

Gradually, once he’s adjusted to the onslaught of sensation, Gordon is able to give back. He nips at Benrey’s jaw, runs fingers through the wiry hair on his chest, hooks a leg around the back of Benrey’s thigh, meets his thrusts with equal vigor. It’s fantastic.

"I wanna...mmn- can you...make me…make me come with you?" Gordon pants out. 

Benrey's eyes widen, his rhythm falters. "Oh...uhh?" 

"Yyyou did it b-before, right? With... Sweet Voice?" That moment on the army cot has been on his thoughts recently. How Benrey’s orgasm had changed his Sweet Voice flavor, how it had forced Gordon to come without warning. And the memory had been dormant, locked away in the back of his mind since then. Just another thing about Benrey that he’d glossed over in favor of obsessing on the only thing that mattered at the time.

"Th-that was uhh...accident, " Benrey’s thrusts become almost thoughtful as he tries to focus on the conversation.

"Ssso do it on...on purpose this time."

"You sure?" 

"Hell yeah. Wanna… get off- ah...together." 

"Hhh, shut up or 'm gonna...come right now," Benrey groans.

"Whenever you want."

“Oh yeah? Wh- Whenever I want, huh?” Benrey’s wicked grin tells Gordon that he’s made a big mistake. Benrey’s hips slow, drawing out long, languorous strokes, “Might be awhile… I could do this forever.” Hell, he probably could.

“Oh, c’mon, no, don’t d- aahh.” Gordon smacks Benrey’s shoulder. He shudders as the head of Benrey’s cock drags over his prostate, teasing and leisurely. It’s good, so good, but in a way that tells him he’s not getting nearly enough. Gordon whines, inarticulate groans and gasps issuing forth as he squirms for more.

“Mmmmn, what d'you want? Use words maybe?” Benrey says, pushing back in after nearly pulling all the way out, agonizing in his creeping progress.

“ _Fuck me,_ you ass,” Gordon says, trying to buck up against Benrey, to generate the friction he needs.

“So rude.” Benrey puts a hand on Gordon’s hip, effectively stilling him. “How ‘bout be a polite? Lil’ 'please'? Lil’ 'thank you'?”

“Ahh fuck, _PLEASE_ _!_ ” Gordon whines, trying to writhe against Benrey, but he is immovable. The only hope he has to move him is with his words. “God, Benrey please, _pleasepleaseplease_ I need it.”

“Need what?” Benrey asks. Gordon can feel his restraint slipping. It must be hard to be such a tease when they both want it so bad.

“I need your cock! I need _you!_ Need you to fuck me, Benrey, make me come, oh god, _please_ , I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it!" He's lived the vast majority of his life without Benrey fucking him, but now it feels like he'll die if he doesn't get more. 

“Mmhh, I like this version,” Benrey says. He bends close to lick at the perspiration beading on Gordon’s neck. "Freeman Three-point-one."

“Wh-...Wha?” Gordon mindlessly tries to grasp his dick, but Benrey pulls his hand away, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. He's completely at the other man’s mercy for all stimulation. He quivers with helpless need.

“Like to see you sweating like _this_.” He punctuates it with a powerful thrust that has Gordon crying out. “Shaking like _this_." He does it again. Gordon shouts incoherently as Benrey hits that sweet spot once more. "Begging for _this_.” Another. "Desperate for _this_.” And again. "B-...big upgrade."

Gordon doesn’t have the cognitive ability to fully grasp what Benrey is saying. All he knows is that he likes that Benrey likes it.

“More…” Gordon pleads, breathless, brainless, shameless. “Need… more… fuck me. Please, Benrey. I...”

“Okay,” Benrey says softly and kisses Gordon on the cheek before bearing down, snapping his hips hard and fast. Gordon loops his freed arms around Benrey’s neck, unable to do anything but hold on for the ride. He lets himself be pulled into those black eyes staring down at him with all that staggering adoration. Adoration he’s learning to accept and return, now that he can really see Benrey and feel him.

“Ahh... fuck, so- good… So good, Gordon. Ready? Here we go,” Benrey locks lips with him and Gordon opens his mouth eagerly. Benrey sings a deep moan into him, spilling the syrupy Sweet Voice onto his tongue, sweet cum into his ass, and Gordon is overcome by an all-consuming orgasm, with or without Benrey's alien assistance. He bucks against the other man, erratic jolts as his cock spasms in Benrey’s slippery grip, his muscles clench, his brain liquifies to coat his body in warmth and satisfaction. 

It’s not as good as morphine. Nothing ever will be. But the delivery method is better by several orders of magnitude.

“That looked like fun,” Benrey says after he’s cleaned Gordon up with an attentive care he never shows when doing the dishes. “Do me after the next meeting?”

“Really?” Gordon raises an eyebrow at him from his nest of pillows and blankets. “I dunno if that’s uh...healthy to keep doing it like this.” Ethics aside, the idea absolutely intrigues him.

“Don’t you guys get prizes? Thirty day trophy? Two meeting fuck?” 

“They’re called tokens. I mean...I guess, but it’s not really… ah, what the hell, sure. Sounds like a plan,” Gordon says, wanting to see the smile Benrey gives him. It certainly gives him more to look forward to next week. More than just an awkward circle of folding chairs, mediocre coffee and painful catharsis. 

“Cool... whoa holy shit. I feel like I could actually do one of those sleep things,” Benrey says, slumping against the headboard. He looks drained.

“You should. C’mon.” There’s already plenty of room on the bed, but Gordon scoots over a bit more to drive the point home. He gets another one of those bizarre, adorable smiles. 

Gordon wakes up several hours later, his arm throbbing. He expects to see his hand missing, the bloody, mangled stump pulsing, feebly pushing out blood. But everything is where it should be, or maybe where it shouldn't be. It still feels like he's not really supposed to have it.

He flexes his hand a few times, rolling his wrist around and wincing. Gotta tell Benrey to take it easy on this particular arm. He gets this discomfort often around this time, but tonight’s activities were especially rough on the joints. 

Late nights are always difficult. He wakes in the darkness, arm aching, brain fuzzy and assailable. He could stop this uncanny, uncomfortable sensation. More than just the pain, which usually recedes with a combination of Advil and Tylenol. He could obliterate the anxiety, the doubt, the existential dread, anything remotely unpleasant. His prescription hasn’t lapsed yet…

He couldn’t fill it at this hour, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. Thinking about other ways he could get what he still craves at times like these. 

Gordon shifts, rolling over to find Benrey lying next to him. His face is directly planted in the pillow, sleeping or imitating someone who does sleep. Either way, he's doing a very weird job of it. How is he even able to breathe like that? 

Benrey would be disappointed if Gordon started using again. Maybe he would finally realize Gordon isn’t worth it if he can’t keep a promise. Gordon makes a mental note to cancel the prescription in the morning.

The pain in his wrist is fading with his stretches. He won’t have to get up to take anything.

He still wants the drug. A very slowly shrinking part of him always will. He also wants to be better. Not just for Benrey, there are plenty of important things in his life to fight for. But in the ongoing cost-benefit analysis in Gordon’s head, the strange creature next to him has a persistent, sometimes-clawed finger on the scale.

“Thank you,” Gordon whispers, sliding nearer to Benrey.

"Shut the fuck up," Benrey mumbles, grabbing Gordon and dragging him close against him. “You’re welcome.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's some amazing fanart](https://twitter.com/Thre3SidedShape/status/1300824660628578307) from @Thre3SidedShape. Thank you so much!
> 
> I also commissioned art of my own fic because I am very cool. [Incredible art of the chapter 10 shower scene](https://twitter.com/MuffDash/status/1306562579263782913?s=20) by @MuffDash. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading this. This was my first serious writing project in about four years and I couldn't have finished it without your support.
> 
> I want to stress that I can in no way guarantee the accuracy of my portrayal of addiction and recovery. There are a lot of fantasy elements at play here, in addition to my selfish need for a happy ending. You can't fix addiction with love alone, and that's not really what's happening here. The point is that the extremely difficult work of recovery can be less daunting when you're not alone, but it’s still very hard, and lasts a lifetime. I hope I handled the topic with as much sensitivity as an erotic fanfiction based on an improv comedy video game performance could. 
> 
> Thanks to additional beta Masque for proofreading this chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to chel for beta reading!


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